


Dark Judgement

by Glorfindel



Series: Dark Judgement [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien, The Silmarillion - Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Horror, Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-26
Updated: 2009-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 55
Words: 91,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glorfindel/pseuds/Glorfindel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Told completely from Sauron's point of view. His recollections blur the lines between who is good and bad, and he is brutally and gleefully honest about his deeds as he recalls events from the past and present and gives his opinions on them.</p><p>This story begins before 'Summer Heat' and tells how Sauron became the Valar approved psychiatrist for all the elves damaged by him in Middle_earth.</p><p>The tale starts with Sauron being defeated in Middle-earth during the Ring War. He is removed to Valinor for judgement by the Valar and looks forward to spending eternity with Melkor in the void, but his time there does not go as planned and he desperately seeks to leave the horrors of his new existence. The Valar release him, but his punishment is far from over as they force him to re-evaluate his hopes for the future and explore how it feels to love another.</p><p>Then the Valar give him the evil, murderous, psychopathic Erestor to cure. Has Sauron finally met his match?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Summer Heat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187) by [Glorfindel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glorfindel/pseuds/Glorfindel). 



> The first 12 chapters were beta'd by Sylc - the rest await further editing.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the elves or their surroundings. The elves made me write this even though they belong to Tolkien; they are very naughty making me do this! I make no profit and have no intention of making any.

The destruction of the One Ring did not destroy me. I diminished and lost most of my power, and so, I ceased to be a threat. It was tempting to stay on Middle-earth and bide my time until I grew in power. I have done it before. However, there are only so many times that one can try before truly knowing the empty, dry taste of defeat. After the downfall of Númenor, my punishment was to appear ugly and threatening to those who saw me; my fairness of form could never be used again to gain the trust of those who valued beauty above all else. Abandoning physical form altogether after the War of the Alliance, I retreated and bided my time, slowly increasing in strength and power. Some say that I became the All Seeing Eye sitting atop the tower looking down on the lands below, but this is far from reality. The slit pupil eye was a mere projection designed to state my return in the loudest of terms and to terrify. I could see through it, in my mind, and observed much of use. Once again, I embraced physical form.

 

My power swiftly departed as soon as the ring melted in the molten lava pool, in the throat of the central vent of Mount Doom. The volcano erupted with the additional power of the ring and the hobbits can only have escaped the immediate danger with the protection of the Valar. Once again I lost and this time forever. I have done what I can for Melkor. My weariness of separation from him defeats any will that I would otherwise have. I am not complete without his presence and so I fail, but this time it is different; I am past caring and want to go home.

 

Surely, he will know that I gave my best for him. Will he forgive my failure? I have little hope because he is neither possessed of a forgiving nature nor capable of one. Yet I must try. I call on the Valar in my desperation and misery, to take me away. I do not ask their forgiveness; there is no reason why I should. The Valar are good and I am evil. They need me to maintain balance. All I ask them for is my right.

 

This must be what death is like. No strength remains in my body once I decide not to stay. I lie helpless, and waiting, my fëa thin and without substance. Flames burn me but I do not feel them. Burn me, burn my body like that of a celebrated warrior on a flaming pyre. Release me from these physical bonds so that I can fly. So that my time here can end and I can go to whence I came.

 

My fëa lifts away from solidity and floats without direction; like a wisp of cloud away from the boundaries of Middle-earth. Never have I felt so light. It is a good feeling and as I drift, the need to think is lost. I am free.

 

If only I could have stayed floating without care. The spirit of retribution swiftly caught up with me and pulled me in for judgement. My formless fëa acquired an outer body that appeared exactly as my previous one when young and I stood before Manwë ready to accept his verdict. I did not plead my case nor argue any points. To do so would have been futile. Instead, I maintained what I considered a quiet dignity. Why feed them bread when I could give those who would judge me crumbs instead.

 

The sentence was to go through the Door of Night and live there for an indeterminate time. According to Manwë, I fulfilled Eru's song by bringing evil to Middle-earth but I always had the choice to resist doing so, and that was the reason for punishment.

 

My face displayed my contempt. "Do with me as you will, Manwë. I do not care anymore."Truly, I did not. If they had wanted to crush my fëa instead and destroy it, then they could. I would have let them; I am not afraid of non-existence. To send me through the Door of Night would take me back to the one I love. It would be more a reward than a punishment. Even if the Valar had chosen physically to punish me, they could not have broken me. I love pain. I savour every nuance of abuse, every torture, every deprivation and every humiliation. The Valar would have been too polite and correct to punish me properly by corporal means alone. With the intent of redeeming me, restraint would always stay their hand from inflicting too much. I know how they work: in-between bouts of unimaginable pain there would be long periods of self-reflection and examination where I would be required to demonstrate regret for past deeds; with any deviation or transgression severely dealt with. I will never turn away from evil. It is my love and it is my master. It rules my heart.

 

I smiled and wondered at the naivety of Manwë. Melkor and I would lead a disparate army through the Door and overrun them. The thought was too delicious and I had to maintain an iron control over my countenance so that they would not discern my train of thought. The waiting was pure torture, not the sort I enjoy and I grew impatient. There was much talk about my future whilst I stood waiting. I sighed heavily and told Manwë to get on with it. They could indulge in mere chatter in their own time.

 

"You may not enjoy the land beyond the Door of Night as much as you think, Sauron." Manwë gave me his sternest look but it was lost on me.

 

"Whether I do or not is academic. You have passed sentence. Have now the courage to carry it out." I glared at the leader of the Valar.

 

"Your sentence will be one of harsh endurance; there is no hope or comfort to be found beyond the Door. Nothing will be as you expect." Manwë gave a small smile in spite of his rising anger and I sighed as though bored. Rising from the crystal throne, he walked towards me. "If you had shown even the slightest indication of repentance your punishment would not have been so harsh." He seemed sad and resigned. I merely smirked.

 

"I cannot repent any of my actions, because even though I failed, I did what I could for a cause that I believe in. Who has the right to ask that I do so?" He walked away and I followed and the other Valar fell in behind.

 

Manwë walked to a bare wall with no decoration or covering. He stopped and waved his hand and the dark outline of a door appeared. A handle formed and Manwë turned it to the left and pulled on it to reveal a vast space beyond of unimaginable, sucking blackness. He motioned for me to walk through and so I did. I looked back but already the door was gone and blackness surrounded me. Putting my hand out, I could feel the form of the door even though I could not see it. The location would be handy to know when Melkor and I rode our armies out to defeat the Valar and subdue the population of Valinor. Committing it to memory, I smiled and walked forward, embracing the darkness.


	2. Beyond the Door of Night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron walks through the void to meet Melkor, who is waiting for him.

Sauron's POV

 

I felt them. I knew they were there - just outside the periphery of my vision. Holding back, they dared not touch me. I walked forward into the darkness, slowly at first, being unsure of the ground beneath my feet. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and then I could see a land of black shadow and jagged rocks. Extending way beyond my sight went the path I knew I should follow. To either side of the path lay an unimaginably deep chasm whose bottom no eye could see. I walked slowly, trying to familiarise myself to the wasteland that seemed without end or beginning.

 

The Door, set at the end of the path, had no wall to the sides of it. Behind it extended empty space. It was desolate, a place of despair with no hope; a place of ultimate abandonment. Barad-dûr seemed a palace of sparkling sunlight compared to here. I felt a momentary regret for not trying harder to make my former home like this place, but dismissed the thought quickly. How could I have known that such darkness existed, so thick in nuance that it draped around the psyche and almost realized physical form? The total concealment of light, a torture that only the elves could truly appreciate for its terribleness, and yet I had failed to implement what should have been the simplest of states. There is always light somewhere, even in a completely dark room, but not here. This place is perfection.

 

The path led along a line of jagged rocks. Glowing yellow and red eyes looked out at me, then disappeared when I glanced back. They feared me. Walking further round the side of a great stone shaft, a plain appeared as if hidden before. A seething mass of wriggling forms writhed up to the edges of the path, but did not attempt to cross it. Their screams of agony played as soothing music to my ears and I was so lost in their suffering that I did not question why they were crying so. I felt like an amateur, as though I had not really tried hard enough on Middle-earth. I could have killed more. Instead, I played ridiculous power games for enjoyment, not wanting to win too soon so that I would not lose the pleasure of protracted misery in my name; I see that now.

 

The path through the clearing led to a huge circle and over the other side of the circle, in the distance, stood a figure. One never loses recognition of those they love, and I ran forward, elated that I would shortly meet the one taken from me so long ago. I do not know how long I ran - minutes or hours, I could not tell. It was not until I stopped running that the distance between us closed. On walking into his presence, I felt his power and the thrill that then rushed through my mind and body assured me that everything that had gone before was worth it for this one moment. I threw myself forward to lie prostrate before him and to await his indulgence.

 

"Master."


	3. Melkor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting melkor was not as much fun as Sauron thought t would be.

I lay prostrate before him as he walked around me. I knew the sound of his steps so well and it was as though our separation never happened. He said nothing, but I expected this. How many times had Melkor kept me like this when we were together? Never saying anything, just demanding my perfect obedience and silence by implicit right. How I longed for him and desired his touch and attentions. I dared not move even slightly; that would displease him. Remaining perfectly still, I breathed slowly so that my rising back would not offend him when my lungs filled with air. He walked around me many times while I lay relaxed with my forehead against the warm stone floor. For a brief moment, I wondered why the floor was not cool, but dismissed the thought when a heavy boot positioned over the back of my head and pressed down hard enough for my forehead to take on an imprint of the rough stone.

 

After a short while, the boot moved away from my head and roughly connected under my shoulder to flip my body over. I lay still with my eyes shut. This was a familiar scenario from long ago where I knew that to look upon my master's face was strictly forbidden. Hearing the rustling of his robe as he knelt down, he was still able to surprise me when he ran his fingers lightly across my lips. Not daring to move, my breathing hitched with excitement as a hand stroked lightly down my chest to my hardness. A finger entered my mouth and I suckled greedily upon it all the while moving my face as little as possible. A hand slid around the back of my neck and I felt my master's lips upon mine. He teased me. Slight touches and brushes of his tongue increased my excitement until I made the mistake of groaning. A small audible exhalation and then he struck me across the face and forced me to lie on my front again. He knew this would increase my excitement and he indulged me by placing his foot heavily on the back of my head again. The fool Manwë could not possibly know the sublime pleasure that I was feeling at this moment. I did not feel punished at all. Indeed, I considered myself rewarded.

 

The boot moved from my head and a hand cupped my throat whilst another held the back of my head. Swiftly the hands pulled me up to a standing position and held me there. All the time I moved as little as possible so that my master would not put me back on the floor again. I was eager for him to use my body as he saw fit and the excitement nearly drew me to completion.

 

I stood with my eyes shut, trying not to sway to the sound of his footfalls walking in slow circles around me. My master stopped and I felt his hands opening my robe. It fell away and I felt the material brush softly against the back of my legs on its descent. Something hard stroked my cheek, a startling counterpoint to the softness of the hand that now caressed one of my sides.

 

"Open your eyes." I nearly wilted with suppressed bliss at the sound of his voice. So deep and rich, as if travelling from deep underground, yet not an echo rebounded, because for all its resonance he did not speak loudly. A black claw brushed at my cheek. I did not flinch, as this was a favourite device, designed to test my reaction. He was beautiful. Incredibly beautiful and I lost myself in his gaze. Many times, he told me I was beautiful, but that was long ago when he first seduced me, and I am not a fool; I could never compare to him. To look upon his face is to look upon cruel perfection, a merciless and exquisite excellence of form. I am inferior and not worthy of his attention and yet I still crave him, even though I know that he exceeds generosity itself in even acknowledging my existence.

 

Lips press against mine and his long tongue slides into my mouth and down my throat so that I cannot breathe. I feel the tip of his tongue in my trachea and the unfamiliarity of the invasion sends me rigid with panic. I cannot breathe and so I relax. To stay rigid means that his tongue will stay in longer to taunt me, to torture me. I know my master; this is what he would do. I smile inwardly as I recall the many times I did the same to Maglor, subduing his struggles as he fought for air until he passed out.

 

He draws back and looks at me with a small smile. Moving behind me, his hands pull me backwards on what seems to be a soft bed or padded platform. I know not, as there is nothing to see. An illusion, nothing more, and yet it feels as real as my own existence. Hands caress me and I am gently turned over onto my front. I lie waiting, legs apart and shivering in delighted anticipation. Feeling him behind me, his arousal nestling against my entrance, I sigh with happiness and await his gift.

 

Suddenly, searing pain shoots through my inner core and I scream, full blooded and agonised, like an elf being skinned whilst still alive. Panicking, I try to flee, but he holds me tight. His hands have turned to claws and they pierce my flesh. All is going wrong and I plead for him to stop. He has hurt me many times before, but never like this. Sharp pointed teeth bite into my flesh and chunks of skin and fat and muscle tear away. I watch as he spits them to the ground. My situation is so surreal that at first I do not register that my own flesh is being discarded. When I do, I yell and plead and beg. Warm fluid runs between my legs and pools below me, dripping through the illusory bed. Claws tear into the flesh of my chest and back and he continues driving his hardness into me, tearing my insides to shreds. I feel the loss of reality and consciousness and embrace what surely must be the end of my life, as the comforting warmth of peaceful darkness engulfs me.

 

I did not die. I awoke in pain and bleeding, the blood under my body congealed into a viscous jelly. Every part of my body was ripped from the claws. Feeling my face, I discovered that there were deep gashes all over and I nearly vomited when an exploratory finger felt through my cheek and touched one of my teeth. I had no time to reflect as my master picked me up by my hair and tied it to a hook that suspended from above on a chain. Looking up, the blackness was so complete that I could not see where the chain ended.

 

With my hands tied behind my back and standing with my toes barely touching the ground, I looked at my master, hoping for some show of feeling. There was none. He stood before me, and without expression, gently ran the fingers of one hand through my blood-matted hair, then held a writhing tentacled creature to my mouth with the other.

 

"NO…" I yelled and twisted, not knowing where he intended to use the creature, but not trusting him to take care of my welfare anymore. "Please…" The back of his hand swiftly slammed across my face and I lost consciousness. When I came to, I felt something warm, soft and slippery, pushing into my mouth with arms of white translucent flesh hugging my face to secure round the back of my head. My stomach heaved and although I tried to vomit, the creature maintained its grip, increasing the pressure and tightness as needed. Never on Middle-earth have I used a creature such as this to gag someone. It is an ingenious use for it, and I know that if such a creature had existed on Middle-earth, I would have done well to employ it.

 

If I relaxed, the creature stayed still, but if I struggled, it attacked me. Tentacles rammed down into my stomach and into my lungs so that blood erupted out of my nose. I tried to stay as still as possible with the foul taste of its bodily slime perpetually on my tongue and making me shudder. If I was convinced of Melkor's love for me, I could have born this, but mentally he took me to a new place of terrifying and painful isolation and for the first time I feared. I could have continued to lie to myself and believed that Melkor still loved me, if only to make the ordeal more acceptable in my mind. However, it is a betrayal of the worst kind to deceive one's self and so I forced myself to face the truth. He did not love me - perhaps he had never done so, and now he sought only to punish me.

 

I could not last forever and I knew that at some point, if I were lucky, I would die. I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid of living because I know there are worse things than dying; something I often told my victims.

 

He cracks the whip in the air to catch my attention and looks at me with hate in his eyes and a slight sneer on his lips. The creature shifts slightly and I override the urge to vomit when a tentacle slides down my throat. Do your worst Melkor, whip me until the flesh falls away from my bones and kill me. I am weak and have already lost a lot of blood. Just a little more and you will set me free.

 

The whipping begins.


	4. The Gap in the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor kills Sauron and his spirit looks for somewhere to hide. He finds the Door of Night and his body reforms, but is this a good thing?

I could write a graphic description of the whipping, but I will not. It is suffice to say that Melkor killed me. The last slash of the whip tore through my neck and my spinal cord. I was already dead from loss of blood by the time that happened and bodiless, I watched my corpse fall to the ground and my now detached head swing wildly from the hook fastened to my hair, like some grotesque pendulum. It could have been worse. I could have survived. Being split in two from inside was not pleasant, but it was interesting that Melkor was able to achieve this: I did not think he was that large, even now as a fëa without a functioning hroa, he has made me feel inadequate.

 

Floating and free of pain I found myself stunned at the frailty of my body. In the past, I never seemed to tire of toying with and crushing the frailty of others: of elves and men. However, I now have to concentrate on the future and not the past, which is gone, and so it seems, is Melkor's love for me. Melkor professed his love for me many times before his capture by the Valar. I promised to gain Middle-earth in his name and failed. He must hate me now, and yet I still love him. Perhaps he will forgive me and then I will know him as my master again. It is a state that I long for with all my being, even now, even when I know that it will never happen. I discard the weak emotions of longing, hope and love; they can mean nothing if I am to survive.

 

Melkor looks up and I realise he can see me. A fleeting thought occurs that he can torture my naked fëa too. I must not let fear rule my actions. I must be brave and unflinching even though I am now terrified. I look down at him.

 

"You failed me. You are dismissed. I turn my face from you forever." He turned around and faced the other way. This left the way for all the creatures in the darkness to hunt me down, attack my fëa and torture me until the Valar ended my sentence.

 

No time for thought. Primal instinct urged me to flee and so I did. It did not matter where I flew to, only that I escape. There were surprisingly few places to hide and others, who did not welcome my presence, occupied those that did exist. In one sheltered cave lay a pool of slime. I tried to hide within the cave but the slime reached up with green whippy projections and attacked me before I could go further than the entrance. Because of my recent experience with the tentacle gag, I was loath to let it touch me. Continuing with my flight, I looked for a safe haven in the dangerous darkness and in the end found none. I stopped comparing my former life with this one. It was pointless and futile and my taste for it had gone.

 

My whole existence became devoted to eluding the creatures that hunted me. There was no respite and it was never ending. My weariness slowed my flight and I found myself at the Door of Night, beaten and exhausted. A small gap in the door enabled me to slip my fingers through, enough to touch the light beyond, but no more. What new torture was this? My hand reformed into living flesh and I could not remove it from beyond the door. The whole of my fëa gradually formed bones, muscle, sinew and skin and I had, in what must have been only minutes, a new body. The pain in my wrist was agonising, the flesh, bone and skin compressed between the edges of the gap. Unable to move away from the door, I became aware that I was now a captive without any means of escape.

 

A tentacle slithered along my bare leg. For the first time in my life, I could not fight back. Beaten and exhausted I felt a tear run down my cheek; the first one ever in my life. "Please," I said to what I knew not. "I do not want to exist anymore."

 

But I was not allowed the luxury of the obliteration of my fëa. The tentacle pulsated inside me, causing a cramping sensation and then after a while, all of a sudden, I felt it feeling around the base of my throat. The tentacle was all the way through me! Horrified, I opened my eyes to look at the creature that had put it there.

 

I do not know for how long I screamed except that it was a long time. Even with my eyes shut I could see the dread creatures circled around me. They tortured my body and my mind. All that kept me in the same place was my hand through the door. I gave up any hope that I would be rescued or that my ordeal would end. I knew that my past deeds were being punished but at one point, surely I would have paid for my transgressions. Nothing that I visited upon the elves and Men of Middle-earth compared to the tortures that I endured at the Door of the Night. But in truth, it is only because they did not exist that I did not employ them.

 

I lay constantly in searing pain. I did not expect sympathy, not even from myself. The whole focus of my existence was enduring agony. Now I am able to reflect that I truly know my limits, both physically and mentally under the extreme conditions of fear, pain and terror. At the time, I was unable to think at all. Then it happened, a hand touched mine on the other side of the door. It held on firm, but the warmth and steadfast contact made the pain on my side of the door seem somehow sharper and more unbearable.

 

I beat against the door, yelling and pleading to be rescued. A tentacle slammed into my mouth and shot rapidly down my throat. The arm shook me until I went unconscious, but before everything went black, I saw my hand gradually tearing off at the wrist where the door held it. It is strange what we take notice of when all seems to be lost.


	5. The offer of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron is released from the void, but his punishment is far from over.

Pain. Nothing but pain. No other feeling.

 

I did not die. I expected to, but I did not. Now I lay, I knew not where. Eyes too swollen to open, stung as though a thousand bees had deposited their stings in the lids. My inflamed and bitten tongue protruded between cracked lips. Inside, I burned. The cramping pain caused me to draw both legs up to my chest in an effort to ease the pain. Breathing was hard through broken ribs and upon exploring my body with tentative and hesitant fingers I found several places where the bone protruded through the skin; the ends jagged and sharply splintered. Feeling my face, I found several open wounds and several misshapen areas where the bones had broken. To my horror, I found that I was minus several body parts: it was apparent I would never have sex again, however my hearing would not suffer from a lack of ear lobes and losing a foot and a butt cheek would hardly kill me. I mentally prepared myself for a life of causing revulsion to those who would see me, then idly wondered if I could leave this body at will. It was something I had achieved on Middle-earth, but try as I might it did not seem possible here.

 

There was a mattress underneath me and I wondered if this was more of Melkor's trickery. Footsteps in the distance: who is there? Could it be Melkor coming to taunt me? To him, ugliness is unacceptable and he would have punished me further for it. I hoped it was not him as I knew I could not take anymore. What use would he have for a broken body? I knew that even if he killed me, my fëa would survive, and he would torture that too.

 

This continued torture wore me thin. It stretched me so that I could feel nothing emotionally anymore except a detached observation that my ordeal would never end. Surely, an end must be in sight somewhere, as I had paid repeatedly for my actions on Middle-earth. I had to accept this continuing state as nothing I could do would alter any outcome. I was aware of a presence next to me and I drew in a breath and prepared myself for another round of torture.

 

"He is in a pretty bad way. Why don't we just discard this body and give him a new one?" A voice I had not heard in many years spoke over me.

 

I was safe, relatively speaking. There were many awful things the Valar could do to me, all of them with an end result in mind. The mindless torture and violence of the dark wasteland was at an end. The bed underneath me was real and not some projection that Melkor had implemented for his convenience.

 

"I am not sure. If he is ugly and misshapen then the elves will avoid him." Another voice, I suspect Námo's, confirming my hopes that I was not in the darkness anymore. I must have passed through the Door, back into Valinor.

 

My punishment there seemed to be over. However, I was not fool enough to suppose that I would escape completely. I felt one of them squat down and touch me gently on the shoulder and even though I expected the contact, I still flinched.

 

"Sauron, do you remember me?"

 

"Manwë." I croaked, my voice barely a hoarse whisper.

 

"Your time beyond the Door is over and you are back in Valinor."

 

I breathed a sigh of relief and was grateful to Manwë for confirming what I already suspected. I have never been grateful for anything in my life, except for the attentions of my old master, Melkor, and I wondered what this change of position could mean.

 

Manwë continued. "You are very seriously injured. Do you want to live anymore?" He sounded so concerned and so understanding; just like I had when offering a tortured elf his death.

 

I felt the tears flowing out of my eyes and down the sides of my face. "No… kill me and my fëa… I do not want to live again."

 

I lost consciousness and my fëa separated from my body, but I did not die. I was not allowed that luxury.


	6. Moving Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron has a moving picture on his wall which shows him being killed by Melkor in The Void.

I woke up in a small room, which had a mattress built into the floor. A raised shape formed at one end of the mattress meant I did not need a pillow and I had one cover, which was thick and quilted. An undefined light source bathed the white walls in a pale pastel wash of pink. Coming to my wits, I realised that the Valar had given me a new body. I felt my face and it was familiar; I looked like I had done when young. There was no pain and I wondered what it all meant. What did the Valar have planned for me?

 

There was nothing to do and so I slept. I awoke when I heard screaming. Sitting bolt upright in terror and thinking the noises must be coming from myself. I huddled into a ball to protect my new body from the horror. Was this some new form of torture by Melkor? Had I imagined my rescue by the Valar? Surely, it could not be anything else. A new desperation took hold of my fëa as I wondered how much more I could endure. Then a door appeared in the wall and Nienna walked through it.

 

"Sauron, you curl up like a fearful elfling when you hear screaming?" She sat on the floor beside me. "Once you would have revelled in the sound."

 

"I thought I was back beyond the Door and that Melkor had tricked me." I looked up hoping that she really was one of the Valar.

 

"Be calm Sauron. The second part of your sentence starts from now and we expect your cooperation. At any point, we can send you back through the door so that the time you spent there will start all over again. Melkor will do exactly the same things to you and you will relive your first experience." She put her fingers under my chin. "Will you cooperate or will you go back?"

 

"I do not want to go back." My voice choked; the thought was too awful. But I did not want to be a pawn of the Valar either. "I want to die - my fëa too; I see no future. I definitely do not want to go back through the Door. Why can't you let me die?"

 

"Why should we? There is no reason why we should do anything for you and yet we are giving you a second chance. Only a fool would not grasp it with both hands." Nienna spoke softly, but she meant every word.

 

I knew that I was beaten. I could not bear to go back into the wasteland so I had to cooperate. "What do you want me to do?"

 

"We want you to learn from your experience so that you can move on. Eventually you will work for us." Nienna smiled.

 

"How can that be and why would you trust me so?" My shock must have been very evident as she laughed and replied that I would know one day and I would never be trusted.

 

"Do you feel any remorse for your actions on Middle-earth?"

 

"No, I believed in the cause. To feel remorse would be to betray everything I believed in." I hoped I had given the right answer, guessing that they wanted to hear the truth rather than what I thought they wanted to hear. I did not tell her that after my treatment by Melkor, I felt that he and his cause had betrayed me. She probably knew anyway.

 

"Good. That is the answer we wanted to hear, anything else would have been a lie and the Door would have awaited you." Nienna rose from her sitting position and looked down at me. "Be careful to always tell the truth, Sauron, no matter how unpalatable you think it might be to us. We will know if you do not."

 

I nodded that I would do so. "What will happen to me?"

 

She smiled. "A lot of things." The door appeared in the wall and she walked through it.

 

Immediately after she went I went over to the wall and felt for a door. There was nothing but empty space. I went back to the bed and sat on it, wondering what I was supposed to do. The pink jumpsuit covering my body had no fastenings and fitted me like a second skin. It was soft and fluffy and covered my feet and hands, but left the fingertips free. My hair was shoulder length and free. I lay down to sleep because there was nothing else to do. The screaming started again and I opened my eyes again in panic. The wall changed to a moving picture, as if a painting had come to life, but real and lifelike. Never before had I seen anything like it. There was someone in the distance suspended by his hair, which was fixed to a chain. What magic was this that I should see myself being tortured? The body was jackknifed with each slash of the whip and I could hear my screaming. I touched the picture to try to reach out to stop it, but as my hand met the solid surface, I knew I could do nothing. I tried to look away, but the horror kept me watching and the tears ran down my face as I relived the memories. I so wanted to save myself from being hurt.

 

In the end, I vomited and flopped exhausted and tearful onto the mattress, trying to block the sound of the screaming by putting my fingers in my ears.

 

I wanted to help my other self in the moving picture and I had tried. Grieving because of the ordeal I knew he would have to endure, I grieved for myself also. Was I showing compassion or was I merely feeling sorry for myself? I did not know, but it was a new and strange feeling. I knew then that it would not be the last time I would feel it and that the evocation of the feeling was meant to happen.


	7. Nienna’s visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nienna makes Sauron examine what Melkor felt for him.

The screaming continued and I could not block out any of it. If I shut my eyes, the torture scene replayed in my mind, which was worse than seeing it on the wall where I could retain a certain amount of detachment. I sat and watched, unable to look away and unable to block out the sounds. The whole of my time seemed to have been reduced to a series of edited highlights that were played continuously for I do not know how long.

 

I grieved for what I had endured and for what I would endure, as I knew intimately the story being played by the moving painting on the wall. I also knew that if the being in the moving painting had been someone else, I would have enjoyed it. Disturbing, I know, but honest. Because it was me, it was raw, and it hurt to watch. I wanted to help the being in the painting; I did not want it to suffer, because its suffering is mine.

 

A new and more frightening consequence occurred after a while. If I looked away, sharp jolts of pain that mirrored the torture endured by myself in the painting would shock through my body. On one occasion, I watched the tentacle slithering up the leg and I looked away in disgust. Immediately I felt the cold, wet, slimy appendage snaking its way into my body. I looked back at the screen and the sensation disappeared. I dared not look away, not even for an instance because I knew the pain of the tentacles and the especial terror they held for me.

 

The door appeared in the wall and Nienna walked through. I looked at her and immediately the pains shot through me so that my body jerked and convulsed. Spit drooled from the side of my mouth and I vomited. Wiping my face with my jumpsuit sleeve, I focussed again on the moving painting and the pain eased away.

 

"How do you feel about watching yourself being tortured, Sauron?" Nienna seemed almost to gloat.

 

"It is painful." I knew not how to tell her that it brought unfamiliar feelings into my psyche that made me afraid of what I might become. I did not know if I could embrace such change.

 

She knew my feelings and told me that I could only survive in Valinor if I accepted that I could feel. "If you are to love others you must learn to love yourself."

 

"I do love myself." I did not know what she meant; of course, I love myself. Everything I ever did was for me, wasn't it?

 

"No Sauron, you hate yourself. You enjoy humiliation and being tortured." Nienna's face held no expression.

 

"Only if Melkor was the one giving me the pain." In truth, the only humiliation I had ever had at the hands of others was when running away because I was defeated.

 

"He also humiliated you, Sauron, and taught you to enjoy it." Suddenly the images on the wall stopped, leaving the surface bare. "You can face me now without pain."

 

I cleared my throat and brought my knees up to my chest and hugged them. "Just because he humiliated and inflicted pain on me does not mean I hate him or myself. I was willing and desired it of him."

 

"You desired it because you were taught to desire it, rather like the dog that is trained to fight other dogs. They desire the blood, the pain, the kill. They desire what an ordinary dog would shy away from in fear. Most of all they desire the approval of their owner, just as you did. The approval of the master is worth any amount of pain and humiliation, isn't it Sauron?" Nienna's face remained expressionless.

 

"Well you would seem to know." Intense pain of the like I had never experienced before suddenly wracked my body. After a few seconds it stopped. Breathing harshly and with a strong pulse pounding painfully in my ears, I fought the urge to vomit, not wishing her to see me weak.

 

"I will not tolerate rudeness, Sauron, and I have no qualms about inflicting severe pain upon your body if I need to." She looked hard and I knew I could never beat her. I would have to tell her what she wanted to hear and believe it in myself; I could not risk going back through the Door. She continued. "Make no mistake Sauron, I am your mistress. Melkor has betrayed your love for him. Of course, you know that he never felt anything for you don't you? You were merely a tool, a powerful one, but a tool none the less. He seduced you because you were of value. How does it feel to be betrayed, Sauron?" Then she smiled. "How does it feel to love one who hates you?"

 

"Why do you taunt me?" It was unbearable even to entertain the idea that I had never meant anything to Melkor. I truly loved him and still grieved at the loss of his love that according to Nienna had never been any love at all.

 

"Answer the question, Sauron." Nienna tapped her fan on her knee; I had not noticed it before.

 

"It was a shock to be betrayed; I did not expect it. I felt bewildered. As to loving one who hates me, I do not know if he never loved me. I accept that he hates me because of the way he treated me. I do not think one could hurt the one they loved as badly as that and still maintain they do not hate them." It was hard to pay attention to the issue when most of my time was spent avoiding it.

 

"I did not ask for an analysis; now answer the question." Nienna is the Vala who weeps for the suffering of Arda and I suppose many of my actions have made her weep buckets, not that I care. She is also described as giving comfort and counsel to those who need it, and she teaches pity and endurance. I wonder if it is actually Nienna, I see before me, because this one in no way resembles that of popular belief.

 

"It feels empty and wasteful. It feels as though I have lived a lie and that all my actions were worthless because they were based on the premise that Melkor loved me. This is why I cannot let myself believe that he does not love me. The cause I believed in, and still do believe in as right, would then be for nothing." There, it was said, and I wondered why I felt lighter. It was as though I could smile without cruelty being the cause of it.

 

"Well said." She smiled and pointed to the wall. The moving painting appeared, but this time it was not of my time beyond the Door. A large room came into view. It was my old bedroom at Barad-dûr. On the large bed in the centre of the room lay an elf, shaking with pain and crying, and bearing the fresh marks that I had given him. "He never cried in front of you did he?"


	8. The Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron is seriously burnt in a revenge attack.

My time beyond the Door taught me what it is to suffer and endure constant torture: it becomes an exercise in survival or willingness to die; much like the one the elf in the painting had endured for so many years at my hands. It was transparent that I was to him, what Melkor was to me. I looked away, unable to bear his suffering because it was too near to my own. "What happened to Maglor?" I asked, dreading the answer.

 

"Why do you care?" Nienna indicated that I should keep watching the wall.

 

Maglor, chained to a wall, watched the masonry tumbling around him. Death would be painful and hopefully quick. The stronghold was falling and he would die. He was not afraid of pain; it was an old acquaintance and he knew it intimately. He was also not afraid of dying; it was something he had prayed for constantly, never daring to hope the Valar would actually listen to him. The tower fell and Maglor's body fell with it and was crushed and torn to pieces by the falling rocks. Nienna replayed the scene several times and made me watch each time.

 

"Poor Maglor, he has suffered much and now his mind is completely gone. That is your fault and you will be the one to help him get it back. If you fail, we will put you back beyond the Door and there will be no second chance. Do I make myself clear?" Nienna's eyes bored into my very fëa and I wanted to look away but her stare held me.

 

"Very clear." It was as though my lips worked independently of my brain.

 

"It will not be straight away because we have to get you to a point where you can help him." She looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. "You look disgusting and look at all that vomit. You are living like a pig, Sauron."

 

She told me to stand and so I did. The door on the wall appeared and two elves walked through. My hands were cuffed behind me and my legs chained together at the ankles so that I could walk only small steps. They wrinkled their noses at my smell and it amused me that they were repulsed. I was bound and yet still able to torture elves. How sweet is that?

 

We walked outside along a long stone corridor of what I assumed must be a prison, until we came to a strange room. My restraints were removed and the elves cut the jumpsuit away from my body and pushed me through the door and quickly shut and locked it. I stood waiting for something to happen, when little silver balls studded with many holes appeared in the ceiling, walls and floor. I looked back at the door and could see the two elves laughing, so to show them I cared not; I walked into the centre and waited. Hot water shot from all directions, soapy at first, which I took full advantage of by washing my hair and cleaning my body. Then the water turned clear to rinse me. It was good to be clean. The water increased in pressure and became painful. There was nowhere to shelter from the dagger like assault of the water jets upon my body and it did not stop until I howled in pain. My body was bruised all over. However, my ordeal was not over. A wind as hot as that near the fires of Mount Doom then tore through me and the bare surface became so hot the soles of my feet blistered. My hair smelled faintly of burning and I wondered if I was to burn to death in some twisted act of retribution.

 

The elves at the door laughed still and pointed at me through the glass screen, gesturing their contempt. In spite of my pain I turned and faced them and stared back, not moving an inch. Their expressions froze. I do not know if I was the cause or whether it was because Nienna had appeared behind them. The hot wind stopped and I waited to be taken away. My skin rapidly developed blisters and my lips and eyelids swelled, reducing my vision.

 

Nienna walked into the room and ordered the elves to put the chains and cuffs back on me. The blood ran where they cut through the blisters, but I did not complain. I would not give them that satisfaction. I walked nude back to my room accompanied by the elves and Nienna. The hole in the wall appeared and I walked through. Everywhere was clean; all vomit gone. I walked over to the mattress, sat down and faced the wall; no doubt, the moving painting would start again.

 

The painting did not start. Instead, two healers came into the room and Nienna directed them to see to my injuries. This time she stayed with me. The cuffs and chains were removed and salve and bandages applied to my body, which was now enduring a burning pain, exquisite in its extremity.

 

"Lay down on the bed, Sauron." I did as she bid me. She covered me with the blanket and I looked at her.

 

"Why did they do that to me?"

 

"Because the elves that lived on Middle-earth hate you. Surely, you know that. They have long memories and you will never truly be trusted; not whilst there is a single elf left who still endures the damage or memories caused by your deeds." Nienna tucked the blanket around my neck and put a thick towel under my head to catch the drips from the blisters that were bursting on my scalp. "Sleep now, Sauron. This was not ordered by me and I do not wish to see you suffer in this way. When you awake you will be healed."

 

It would have been perfectly acceptable for her to make me suffer every bit of my discomfort in view of my past transgressions, but she did not. I lay with my eyes shut as a warm heaviness curled over my body, pulling me into a dreamless sleep. My last thought was that I had always sneered at those who showed mercy and compassion or asked for it, but now I knew it for what it was. It felt good and I was grateful for it.


	9. Maglor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron dreams about Maglor and reflects on his treatment of him.

I do not know how long I slept. Sometimes I nearly reached consciousness and I vaguely remember a hand stroking my head and telling me to go back to sleep. The low, gentle voice was irresistible and I could not help but do as it bid. During these moments of near lucidity, I became aware of the pain from my injuries. It was a relief to fall into the numbing deep sleep.

 

The same dream occurred each time I experienced a near awakening. In it, Maglor would be on the bed and I would stand over him stroking his head and urging him to go to sleep so that the pain would diminish. In reality, I gave no thought to his pain. I did not care that he suffered for hours and days after I tortured him. The only thrill I sought were his screams when the pain was inflicted. Yet he never gave me that satisfaction. He never cried out in front of me. That is what kept him alive. He became a challenge and I paid him much more attention than any other elf I captured. I wanted to break him. I wanted to crush his spirit, but instead a grudging respect for him formed and so I grew bored with mere physical torture and sought more subtle ways to hurt him.

 

I tortured elves to death in front of him and yet he showed no emotion. I did not care about the ages of the elves or their sex; all were for my pleasure, and it made me happy to kill them in front of Maglor. The only time I ever saw any reaction was when I tortured a young human who cried and pleaded with me not to hurt him. I looked at Maglor and told him that it was because of him that I was killing the boy and that his lack of reaction was forcing me to carry out increasingly evil acts. He looked at me and said that it was better that the boy died now because in the end I would kill him anyway.

 

That night I heard Maglor crying. It was not the first time and would not be the last, but it infuriated me that he would not give me the reaction I desired to my face. It was as though he was the one in control. More than ever, I wanted to break him and I resolved to do so. I would always fail in this and I truly think that even if he had shown emotion, I would not have been satisfied. I suspect he knew this and even though I tried all the ways I knew to make him break, he was always ahead of me. It was as though he understood and denied me in a seemingly futile bid to play me at my own game.

 

From time to time I would heal Maglor so that his body would show no imperfections, then I would torture and mar him all over again. I healed his body frequently, but I could never reach his mind. That was for him alone. At one point, I stopped because Maglor became mute after the orcs who were supposed to be guarding him abused him. He did not attempt to defend himself and I saw that he did not focus when they attacked him. It was as though he was blind. My infuriation at the treatment of my slave meant that every orc in the room paid with their life. I led Maglor out of the room and asked him how the orcs had released him from his cell to which I held the only key. He asked who I was. After that, he did not cry in private and looked blankly through me; he had no idea of his surroundings, or who I was.

 

The orcs ruined everything. They tipped him over the edge and it did not matter what I did now; he was unreachable. It was useless for me to kill him as I would remain unfulfilled. To torture him would give no reaction either. I chained him to the wall whilst I decided what to do with him. It occurred to me that orcs could not look after him so I ordered two of the female slaves to take care of his needs. They reported to me that he never said a word and that they had to feed him. A few months later the fortress fell. The ring fell into the lava of Mount Doom and everything changed.

 

The moving painting on the wall showed clearly that Maglor knew what was going on when the tower fell and that he was going to die. Did he wake just before the event or was he never lost, but upping the game so that I would be forced into another course of action. He was an enigma even now. Nienna said that Maglor's mind was totally gone. Was he playing a game with the Valar as well or was he genuine? I did not know, but I was intrigued.

 

All of my dreams were about Maglor. He haunted me and every thought reminded me of him. I needed to know how he was. I needed to see him again. I had to know that in spite of all I did to him that he was all right. That he had won.

 

"Wake up, Sauron." Nienna gently shook my shoulder and I awoke. There was no pain and when I looked, my body showed no sign of injury. She reached over, touched my cheek, and smeared the wetness away with her thumb. "A tear," she said. "Is it for you or for Maglor?"

 

I looked away as I felt the sting of salt in my eyes. I hid my face in the pillow and my body shook. All the time I wondered why I was reacting in this way. Why did I care? I knew not the answer except that I needed to know, more than anything, that Maglor had survived his time with me, just as I had survived my time beyond the Door. It was a bond of sorts that we shared and I felt an empathy that comes from experience. I knew his terror and his pain, the loss of hope and a bleak existence full of despair. I also experienced the fear of darkness and the unknown terrors that form in one's mind when there is no light.

 

"Answer me, Sauron. Is the tear for you or for Maglor?" Her face was hard and uncompromising. I knew I had to tell the truth and use detail.

 

"I gave up long ago feeling sorry for myself. I would like to say it is for Maglor, but I do not know. I know that I caused him much suffering, so perhaps my experiences through the Door mean that I identify with him so, maybe the tear is for me too. I really do not know."

 

"A good and thoughtful answer, Sauron. What would you do if we let you see Maglor again?" Nienna smiled and played with the red feather decoration on her fan, stroking the individual vanes with her slender fingers.

 

"I do not know. Is it possible?"

 

She motioned over to the wall. A moving painting appeared and therein sat Maglor, with long red hair, on the edge of a bed holding a soft toy rabbit. An elf was talking to him whilst feeding him what looked like porridge. He paid no attention to the elf and stared blankly at the wall behind his helper. I felt the tear spill over my lower lid and I knew the answer to her question.

 

"I do not want him to see me. I do not want him to suffer anymore. I do not want to be his version of Melkor because I know how that feels." The tears were now running freely down my face and I kept wiping them away, but they would not stop.

 

"I do believe you are developing a heart, Sauron. You used to have one and now it is coming back." Nienna smiled and then could not contain herself. She laughed and tapped me on the shoulder with her fan. "Guess what?" I looked miserably at her. "Because we have a warped sense of fun and it suits our purpose, we have made Maglor your soul mate. You will love him like no one else and that is why you cry for him now." She threw a set of leggings and a shirt to me and told me to put them on.

 

I was being manipulated and yet what choice did I have? The painting on the wall cleared. "Remember that we are always watching you, Sauron. There is nothing you can do that we do not see."

 

I wondered why she said this, but then my attention was taken by the formation of a door in the wall. Nienna opened the door and she gestured for me to go through. The elf feeding Maglor looked at me in terror. No doubt he had met me before. I cannot say that this distressed me because it did not. In fact, I derived a certain amount of satisfaction that I was still able to inspire such a reaction. The elf looked at Nienna who asked him to leave the room.

 

Maglor sat on the bed still holding his toy rabbit and looking so innocent and so lost. I looked at Nienna and she told me to go to him. I was not hopeful, I thought he would reject me or become hysterical when he realised that I was in the room. I sat beside him and he did not react or even acknowledge that I was by him. I gently turned his face and he looked at me with blank eyes.

 

"Do you know who I am, Maglor?" I wondered if he even saw me.

 

"Maglor, Maglor, Maglor..." He repeated his name several times then held his toy rabbit up to me. "Maglor." He stroked the rabbit and said Maglor three more times.

 

I looked at Nienna for help and she smiled. "You are doing well. From now on, you will care for him. Remember any abuse will result in an eternity spent through the Door."

 

"I do not know if I can do this." I was so uncertain. I did not trust myself. I stood to lose everything.

 

"We do not demand anything more of you than of what you are capable. This will teach you many things of which you are lacking now." She walked back through the door and just before leaving, told me that I could ask for her at any time, and she would come.

 

I was left alone in the room with Maglor, who looked at the wall. The room was large and a bathroom and toilet was off to one side. A door led to a large garden; when it stopped raining we could go outside.

 

"Maglor." I stroked the side of his face.

 

The toy rabbit was shown to me and Maglor said his own name again. "No, you are Maglor. Maglor is you, not the rabbit."

 

He became more insistent and something in me broke. It was not the orcs; I made him like this. He simply could not take any more. I held him close and hugged him. His head lay against my chest as I gently rocked him and told him how sorry I was. All the time he said his name, over and over again and stroked the toy rabbit.


	10. The Song of Eru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nienna discusses Maglor with Sauron and punishes him.

I had no idea what to do. How does one bring back the mind of an elf who has lost it? All the time I was aware that one mistake, one false move, would find me back beyond the Door of Night. The fear of reliving my time there ensured my compliance.

 

The Valar, with their twisted sense of fun, had made Maglor my soul mate. Every time I looked at him, old feelings, long suppressed, coursed through me. One of these was guilt. Whenever I looked at Maglor I felt that no matter what I did for him now, it would never make up for the cruel iniquities of his existence when he was my prisoner. It is because I love him that I felt guilt. However, this feeling is for him alone. I can truly say that I could not care less that I killed and tortured the other elves who were imprisoned in my stronghold. I feel nothing for them.

 

Maglor sat beside me, stroking his toy rabbit. The rain had stopped and we could go outside. "Shall we go into the garden, Maglor?" I stroked his hand as I spoke to him.

 

"Maglor," came the reply and he stood up. So, he could understand what was said to him. I wondered how far that went: whether it was limited to basic sentences or whether he could fully understand everything. I suspected the former.

 

Opening the door, I held his hand as we walked into the garden. The air smelled earthy and in the distance was birdsong. A large waterfall stood at the end of a sweeping expanse of lawn and Maglor pulled me towards it. He ran laughing as I followed in a more sedate fashion. Dipping his fingers in the water, he held them up, letting rainbow reflecting droplets fall from his fingers. I smiled at him and he took my hand, dipped it in the water, and held it up so that the drops fell from the ends of my fingers too. "Look," he said. "Maglor." He beamed proudly and I was stunned.

 

I wondered if Maglor could say anything else. "Water," I said softly. "Look, water."

 

Maglor looked at me as though I were a small child, probably a human one. "Maglor." He enunciated the word slowly as if trying to make me understand.

 

I did not know what to do and so I followed him around the garden as he picked flowers. After a while, we went back inside and an elf brought food for us both. I gave the apprehensive elf the flowers and told him to find a nice vase, put them in water, and bring them back. He scurried off as soon as he could leave the room. The nervousness in his eyes upon recognising me gave me a sense of satisfaction, although I was careful not to let it run through my mind for too long lest Nienna notice the thread and boot me back through the Door of Night. She is a harsh taskmistress and she constantly watches and waits for me to fail.

 

Maglor sat expecting for me to feed him. The elves who looked after him before always fed him and so he waited for me. "Pick your bread up, Maglor." He sat still and did nothing.

 

I put the bread in his hand, put my hand over his, and guided it to his mouth. "Take a bite." He bit a small piece off the bread and I saw a worried frown furrow his brows. "I am sorry Maglor but it was wrong of the elves to feed you instead of taking the time to teach you how to do it for yourself." How I want to kill and tear apart those who had indulged his inability with their overpowering kindness.

 

Starting as we meant to go on, I held my hand over the hand holding the fork and he ate his dinner. It would be too easy to give in and feed him, but then he would not get better.

 

That night we slept in the same bed. It seemed that I needed to sleep, even though I am a Maia. Curling up behind Maglor, I held him close. We did not have sex and I did not even try to suggest it. I doubt he could have handled that sort of closeness yet.

 

Several times, I was awoken by his nightmares, and each time he screamed my name and those of elves that I killed; he pleaded with the Valar to release him and he cried the same tears as he had all those years ago in private. Each time, I consoled him and managed to calm him down. I am not sure that he woke up during his dreams or remembered them when he woke later in the morning, but I felt his pain as a burning shard through my fëa.

 

"You did this to him." Nienna sat on the end of the bed. It was still dark outside.

 

"Yes, I know." I was slightly irritated at her fatuous observation.

 

"It is hard undoing years of harm, isn't it Sauron? Should we let Maglor come back to himself and be terrified all the time or should he trust you first? We could give him increasing degrees of cognisance. Yes, I like the idea of that." She looked at me, her bright, glittering eyes boring through my mind and leaving me bare. "Before you ask, we are responsible for Maglor's state and it is only when you have done everything right that we will return him fully to you. No doubt you think we are all a bunch of bastards."

 

"No my lady; it is something I would have done." I looked at the sleeping form of Maglor and wondered why he had to suffer just so I could be taught a lesson.

 

"Would it surprise you to know that you fulfilled your part in Eru's song?" Nienna grinned, took a silver toothpick holder from a small drawstring bag by her side, and started to clean her nails with one of the toothpicks from inside. "You were punished, because even though you followed the song exactly, you always had the chance to refuse. You know the difference between right and wrong, in spite of Melkor's seduction of you, and so your actions were not excusable at all."

 

I was intrigued. "Can one refuse to follow the song if it is already sung?" How was it possible, I wondered.

 

The song would have changed form, even the parts already sung, and it would have been as though it were unsung and waiting to be sung again." I did not fully understand how that could work, but trusted that Nienna knew what she was talking about.

 

"So if I had been good instead of bad, another Maia would have turned bad and done the things I did?" She nodded. "Then surely I have saved that Maia from himself?"

 

"It does not work like that. He was never born because there was no need of him. He had no part in the song." The toothpick was placed back in its holder and changed in her palm to a purple feather fan with pictures of Middle-earth painted on the lacquer spines.

 

"I see, so I could have refused and would not have been disobeying Eru's song, because it is adaptable, and so because I have freewill and misused it, I deserve punishment." I smiled grimly. "It is all so simple really, isn't it?" I said in my most sarcastic voice, before I could stop myself.

 

"Do not even step on the boundaries of rudeness, Sauron. I do not like your tone and you will be punished. Do not worry though; Maglor is doing very well, thanks to your input today." She laughed and then became serious. Waving her hand at me, she said, "You will stay like this until Anor peeps over the horizon."

 

Agonising pain consumed me and I saw her laughing through my screams. It was as though every nerve ending was laid bare and grated continuously with a fiery hot shredder. I was dimly aware that Maglor was holding me in his arms and as my mind spun with dizzy imbalance, I thought I heard him say, "Sauron."


	11. On the Nature of Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nienna taunts Sauron and Maglor improves.

Time. The one constant and even that was not reliable.

 

Nienna informed me during one of our 'counselling' sessions that I had existed beyond the Door of Night for sixteen thousand years if the time was measured according to Middle-earth time. I did not know how long it was until she told me, but it had felt like an exceedingly long existence in the darkness that I now fear and dread ever returning to.

 

Then she informed me in her gleeful and maliciously jolly way that on the other side of the Door, the side on which the Valar reside, only ten minutes had elapsed from when I went through the door, to when I was released. So I suffered a long time and I still suffer. I suffered longer and harder than the elves I persecuted, as if my punishment was cumulative and I had to experience the full total of all that I had given every second of my existence there. If every elf's span of time spent in my 'care' and the tortures they endured was added up, then there would be sixteen thousand years of dread, terror, pain, misery, agony, anguish, hopelessness and death. I state that I suffered longer because I still suffer, except now my suffering is of a different nature.

 

"I feel as though I have been fully punished, My Lady," I said to Nienna. "I wonder why you continue to torture me when I have paid fully and am aware of and regret my past iniquities."

 

"Why do you think?" Nienna looked at me as though I were some idiot human child who is to be indulged and fed with baby talk because they are of incomplete understanding.

 

"Because even though I am aware of and accept responsibility for my actions and the harm they caused, I still find it hard to empathise?" Surely, this must be the answer she wanted to hear.

 

"No," Nienna replied and looked at Maglor who lay asleep. "You put every art you possessed into turning beauty into ugliness. The pure became corrupt and you encouraged the illusion of power in others to increase that of your own. Look at Maglor. How can you ever feel that you have paid for what you have done to him when he still suffers and you do not?"

 

"I do not suffer?" Her words angered me. "I have suffered much, my Lady, as you are aware. I continue to suffer because of my guilt in hurting Maglor. Constantly I am frustrated because I feel unable to reach him. I dread his rejection when eventually he opens up and is horrified by what he sees." I did not mention her arbitrary and pitiless punishments of myself, done purely on whim. It would have served no purpose save to increase her capricious ire with an exponential effect upon my suffering.

 

"You fear his rejection." She laughed and nearly fell off her chair. "The Dark Lord Sauron fears rejection!" She laughed as if she might die of excess and then suddenly she stopped. "It is according to how you love Maglor as to whether you are rejected or not. Not whether you love him or not, but how. You knew this already." She stood up and walked over to Maglor who still lay asleep after his dinner. One finger traced his brow and she smiled then stood up. "I am going now. Maglor is so sweet and innocent; it is a pity that he is the soul mate of someone who is so repulsive and as vile and repellent as the lowest form of reptile."

 

Momentarily my eyes flashed with extreme anger before I controlled myself and suppressed my feelings. "You have still neither lost the ability nor the will, Sauron. Be careful." Not waiting for an answer, she walked through the door and I was left alone with Maglor. Almost immediately, he stirred in his sleep and started screaming.

 

Another nightmare. I reassured him and did not allow any inflection of impatience or irritation to become evident in my voice as I did so. I stayed calm and reassuring; eventually he quietened and sobbed whilst I held him in my arms with his head against my chest.

 

"I love you, Maglor." There, it was said. No going back; no retraction.

 

He said nothing and after a while I could hear the regular breathing of elven sleep. I laid him down on the bed and positioned myself behind him, holding him close. "Sleep now sweet one. Tomorrow we will go into the garden and play with the water and we can try and catch the rainbows in the mist." I talked sweet things to comfort him and because I wanted to. Compassion made me feel uncomfortable as though I was not worthy of showing it and yet I recognised the power of those who could feel it and act accordingly. I was grateful for the compassion of Nienna when the elves burnt me in the showers, causing my skin to blister and fall off. She could have let me suffer, but instead she induced a sleep so that I did not suffer the agony of recovery. I had gone through enough and she knew it. I would do the same for Maglor. I would ease the agony he would someday feel when he knew the truth of my identity, but this would not be possible. Sometimes compassion tempts us to withhold the truth for all the right reasons and yet they are not the right reasons and we are only seeking to protect ourselves.

 

The next morning came soon enough. For the first time Maglor ate his breakfast without prompting and without my help. I had always had to wash him before but this morning he was able to do it himself. Picking up his leggings, he put them on and asked if we could go into the garden. I sat surprised and stared at him.

 

"You said yesterday that we could go into the garden and chase rainbows in the mist and play with the water." Maglor smiled like an expectant child whose will is not to be refused. I opened the door, took his hand, and led him outside.

 

Small steps. Everyday, another small step, and already Maglor was beginning to resemble the adult elf I knew, except here he was free of all cares and worries except for the ones that invaded his dreams and disrupted his nights. Nienna told me that I would have to tell him of my role in his life and I dreaded it. I was no longer interested in hurting other elves, simply because they did not exist within my focus anymore. My whole world was Maglor; however, I could not let him live a lie and believe I was the saviour he thought I was. The truth could destroy us or set us free. I had no choice.


	12. Talking to Maglor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maglor has a kitten and Sauron thinks the Valar are using it to test him.

"Maglor," I catch his attention as he plays with the kitten the Valar have given him. I feel an almost overwhelming urge to tear it limb from limb, but that is not who I want to be anymore so I fight the irresistible pull to kill, and watch it at play. "Maglor, come and sit with me. I want to talk to you." I pat the space on the bed next to me.

 

"No," he laughs. "You always want to talk to me, but you say nothing."

 

"I say a lot," I protest, surprised at his daring insult.

 

"Nothing that interests me," he giggles and I realise he is playing with me.

 

"Well, I am sorry if I bore you," I say, entering the game.

 

Maglor is advancing well; he is a whisper away from how he was, where life was untroubled and he did not have to think about anything other than where he could procure his next meal. I only knew him after the oath, where he became a kinslayer and the darkness of his deeds troubled his fëa to the point of his acceptance of any cruelty I bestowed upon him. He is not frightened of me and that will weigh heavily in my favour when I tell him of my role in his life.

 

"Maglor, come and sit with me."

 

He picks the kitten up and sits beside me. "Isn't he pretty?"

 

The kitten is placed upon my lap; it immediately digs its claws into my leg. Once again, I am resisting the urge to kill it. "He hates you. I used to hate you as well, but you are nice now." Maglor looks at me and smiles. "Do you think the kitten wants to go into the garden?"

 

 

I am stunned. Just how much does Maglor remember? This is a most unexpected development.

 

"Yes, I think we should put him in the garden and keep the door open so he can come back inside when he wants to." I take the kitten and put him outside the door and he runs across the garden.

 

"Before we all died and came here, you would have killed that kitten because it loves me and you would never allow anything to love me then." Maglor bites off the corner of his thumbnail and spits it on the floor.

 

"How much do you remember?" I ask, not daring to put my arm around him or hold his hand.

 

"I remembered nothing until Nienna told me about you. She came to see me two nights ago and told me that you held me captive for many years and did terrible things to me. She showed me what happened to you behind the Door and I felt the tears leap from my eyes. I asked Nienna why I was crying and she said that I felt your pain and suffering. You were very bad, but now you are not because what you did to me has been done to you and now you know what it feels like; that is what I think anyway." He looks over at the wall and smiles: there is nothing there, but I can feel the judgemental and poisonous presence of Nienna anyway. "I was waiting for you to talk about it so I could tell you."

 

"I do not know that I am not bad, Maglor. All I know is that I love you and I truly am sorry that I hurt you. I have no excuse for it and it would be obscene of me to offer one." I do not care if Nienna is in the room with us; I am talking to Maglor and she does not exist if she cannot show her face.

 

"Nienna said that I did terrible things as well. I killed many elves, although I killed far fewer than you. It doesn't make it right though, does it?" Maglor takes my hand.

 

"No, it does not make it right at all." I take his other hand. "If only I could have seen what was before me."

 

"It is of no use to talk about what could have happened," Maglor says. "It is better to look at how we will be in the future. I feel safe with you and I know that you will never hurt me again, but I think that no other elf could be assured of this. I think that you still want to kill other elves and that you would enjoy it. Nienna say that I can stop you if you cannot stop yourself. I have a conscience even if you do not."

 

Most intriguing. I was taking my time and waiting for the moment to be right and the bitch decides to do it for me. How I hate her. "I have a conscience when I think of the way I treated you, but you are right: I have no conscience about how I treated those other elves; I still do not care how I treated them. This is because I love you and not them and as you say, I would never hurt you or anything you loved." The kitten had come back into the room; it clawed my leg and hissed at me. The damn thing was always attacking me, but as he was a test from the Valar, I did nothing.

 

"I feel bad about every elf I ever tortured and killed. How do I live with that? Even though I suffered and eventually died because of my evil deeds, I still feel haunted; what can I do?" Maglor looks troubled and it is unbearable.

 

"Come here," I pull him to me and he sits on my lap. "You can be my conscience and I will teach you how to live with yourself. How is that?"

 

He nods and our lips are so close. His are slightly parted and I can see the pink tongue behind his white teeth. So tempting. Leaning slightly forward, he kisses my lips and I feel his tongue push into my mouth. This is the first time, since our captivity, that we have kissed like this and I want more. I have to let Maglor set his own pace. I break the kiss, allowing him the option to stop if he wants to, but he has other plans.

 

Sitting on my lap and looking at me with desire, I am lost and willing to fulfil his every wish as he breathes into my ear and tells me, with absolute certainty, that he wants more.

 

He can have me. He can have all of me and it will last forever.

 

We kiss some more and lay back on the bed, not caring that Nienna is over the other side of the room watching us.

 

"Did you know another name for orgasm is little death?" Maglor asks as he licks the curve of my ear. I nod that I do know of this, and he says, "You are going to die so many times, meleth, and each time you will shout out my name."

 

He is right and for once, my heart is leaping with anticipation and love. I cannot wait.


	13. Black Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron rejoices that he still has a black heart.

Moving forward took a long time. My love for Maglor grew every day and I wanted nothing more than the simple assurance that it would be forever. Nienna laughed when I asked this for us both and said that I still risked going back through the Door.

 

Like a heavy veil, the Door of Night has been held over my being and existence. The effect on the one I adore has been incalculable and he fears to love me with the same intensity that I do him. He does not know how much more he can lose, without forever closing within himself and dying forever inside. Little by little, we change; it comes insidiously as if in the darkness and takes possession of us, so that we dare to hope and then to avoid what we perceive as inevitable, we draw back, fearing to reveal the true nature of our hearts, even to ourselves.

 

My heart is as black as the most hidden places in the dead of night. There is one tiny spark of redeeming brightness and that is Maglor. I do not hope that my heart will ever become full of light, because I revel in my capacity for evil. My past deeds are a source of joy and comfort to me because that was when I controlled my own destiny. How can a heart be full of light when one does not have the freedom or self-will to determine the course of achieving such a wondrous state of being, or even choose for it to become like that? Not for me, is granted the freewill to choose my own destiny and in conditions like that, one tends to hold onto the past, holding it in a far higher regard and with a greater tenacity than it deserves.

 

I will not let my inner-self go, and I would not risk losing who I am to do so. I know the game and I know the rules; my life and existence is ever dependent on whether I choose to follow them or not. I am continuously watched and always will be. It would be madness to do anything other than to abide by their regulations. I would do anything not to lose the one who is so dear to me and so I will play their game most wholeheartedly, as if I am willing to do so.

 

My compliance has worked before and I have no doubt that it will work again. Only this time there is no Middle-earth for me to conquer and Valinor would be impossible to overthrow. The Valar are far mightier than I am and it would be madness indeed to try opposing them. There is another reason for not doing anything other than their bidding. Melkor betrayed my trust in him; how delicious would it be, if he were to be told that I was now wholeheartedly compliant and agreeable to their plans for my redemption. How I hate Melkor. I do not try to deny or minimise my willingness to be seduced by him, or that I carried out the most egregious acts in his name. However, his betrayal made me starkly aware that all my life working for him on Middle-earth, slavishly following his direction that I conquer in his name, was based on nothing more than a lie. It was time wasted. I could have been doing evil for myself, and in my own name, and had a lot more satisfaction in doing so.

 

Now I am living for myself and for Maglor. He is included in my embryonic plans, where I visualise living somewhere quietly with him as my mate. I can dream of being evil, whilst spending the day doing all the things that those who have innocent hearts do. Who knows, Maglor may actually lead me to a more virtuous existence and be the source of emancipation from the limiting beliefs that so fascinate me. Whatever happens, I know one thing that will be forever true, I can feel no evil when I am by Maglor's side; his goodness flushes my fëa with light and I become almost weightless with the joy he infuses in me. I want to shower him with adoration and love him with all my being. It is impossible for me to be wicked when I am with my only one and all my thoughts are directed at making him feel happy, contented and safe. He deserves that from me at least.

 

Nienna has spent much time with us of late and I have been gifted with being able to sort through elves memories and change them for the better, so that they do not carry grief and terror around with them anymore. I find it immoral, but who am I to make such a judgement? Nienna was most forceful on this point and said that it was because of me that some elves needed their memories altering. Surely, if they can come to terms with what has happened, that is better than having periods of no recollection. It would be truly terrible if my part in the histories of Middle-earth was wiped from living memory, not just for reasons of vanity either, although I admit that does play a large part in my reaction to the plan. If we wipe out an entire collective memory from the general consciousness, then we do not give danger the caution it deserves, and do not take care when trying to avoid it. It is like the elfling who does not learn the first time they burn their fingers on a flame and proceeds to do it again. There lies the way of stupidity, as the same mistakes are bound to be repeated again and again.

 

Tomorrow, I will have an elf brought before me, by Nienna, so that he can be cured of all the memories that still afflict him and make it impossible for him to enjoy his new life on Valinor. It would be more helpful to him if the Valar gave him a stronger backbone and told him to buck up. However, it is not my choice and the caring handwringers will have their day.

 

Who am I to disappoint them?


	14. Wiping the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron meets the first elf he is required to cure - he is estatic that the elf is terrified of him.

Nienna took me to a room. In the centre was a bed and at the head was a chair. On the bed was sheet, a pillow and a blanket. Apparently, the chair was for me.

 

"You know the threat by now," Nienna said, her lips curling into a tiny smirk as she directed me to sit on the chair. "Now, do exactly as I have shown you or else I will carry it out and you will be back beyond the door. I am sure that Melkor would enjoy viciously raping you and cutting your body in half for the rest of your existence, which, may I remind you, is immortal." She gave me a smug grin and started fanning herself with a small book. Her plump hand hid the title, but I was less than interested. I consoled myself by imagining a terrible death for her. It amused me for at least ten seconds.

 

The elf brought into the room, shook with terror. He mumbled incoherently when he saw me and I noticed a spreading wet patch of urine that dripped through his leggings, onto the floor, causing a small puddle to spread slowly outwards. I smiled, knowing that I still had the ability to strike terror into an elf's heart, even with a Vala in attendance. The day seemed not to be so bad after all.

 

"Calaelen, do not fear. I will be present and look after you." Nienna spoke kindly to the elf and placed her hand on his arm. "Have courage, dear one. He cannot hurt you now. He can only do the Valar's bidding and work for the good of all elves."

 

"My Lady, he is Sauron," the elf pointed at me and I blessed him with a smile. I was beside myself with joy that it caused him to faint with terror.

 

"Did you have to do that?" Nienna was most irritated.

 

"I merely smiled to reassure him," I replied with the most ingenuous of expressions.

 

"As if anything you did, could ever reassure," Nienna snapped. "Now let us get him onto the bed." She waved her hand and the wet patch disappeared. The unconscious elf floated up onto the table, as if lifted by invisible hands, and she looked smugly at me because she thought that I should be impressed with a mere party trick. How I wish she would die. The elves say that she wept for the misfortunes of the elves of Middle-earth but I see no kindness in her heart. Perhaps she is more like me than she would care to admit.

 

"I think it would be better if he remained asleep," I said. "I can do nothing with him writhing around. Unless you care to tie him to the bed."

 

Nienna nearly dropped off her chair with shock. "I wonder if you gave your prisoners that consideration."

 

I did not answer. She did not know and that pleased me. Putting my fingers on either side of the elf's head, I felt the sudden urge to snap his neck to one side and take the life from him completely. How I adore killing and the joy it brings to my fëa. Elves have their orgasms through sex. Good for them, but it compares not to the fulfilment and feeling of power when I take a life.

 

I still want to kill, and yet I cannot go back through the Door of Night. My fear of meeting Melkor again, is greater than my love of torturing an elf into submission and then granting him or her a violent and bloody death. The possibility of ever residing again with my former Master and lover is the restraining factor that keeps me from excess. I cannot even say that my love for Maglor would keep me from killing, because in an effort to remain honest to myself, I know that it would not.

 

It is most strange, but I feel an increasing adoration for Maglor every day. I love him; however, I find these new feelings most disconcerting. Do they come from my heart or did the Valar plant them within me? I am not sure and I have always been certain of everything. I do not know how to deal with this change. Dare I let go? I do not know.

 

My fingers feel inside the elf's thoughts, even though he is asleep he still has the capacity to dream. On the wall, images flash, projected from his mind. So, he has been a guest of mine. How interesting. On the wall, Nienna and I can see as if through his eyes, and I find that I can switch to a more general view as well. There is the old torture chamber in Barad-dûr, and for a moment I feel homesick, a feeling which is accompanied by a fleeting sense of loss. Was it really all for nothing? I cannot entertain the possibility and yet I know in my heart that it was. All of it was based upon a false premise, a lie. Would Melkor have loved me if I had gained the whole of Middle-earth in his name? I fear the answer. Admitting to myself that he never loved me, is hard and I know deep in my heart that he would have repaid me with the torture and death that I so willingly gave to the elves. He would have gleefully broken me.

 

I have not always been like this. Melkor has corrupted me and I allowed his seduction. I was weak, but from now on, I will be strong for the one who loves me, and for myself. How ironic that I crave the love of an elf, when all I ever wanted to do was kill them. Something about Maglor stayed my hand, even then. I would heal his wounds and make him perfect again. When I saw him, after coming back from beyond the Door, he was babbling like a baby with carers to see to his every need. I felt guilt, a new emotion and one that sits most uncomfortably within me. How can Maglor ever forgive me? I would not if I were him.

 

As the memories flicker up on the wall, I alter them. Calaelen's screams turn into laughter as I turn the whip into a flower. I search his mind for a lover and find a young maiden with sparkling blue eyes and a happy, innocent smile. I recognise her and have fond memories of the torture I put her through.

 

Nienna glares angrily at me, and so I get back to what I should be doing.


	15. Knowing the meaning of absolute terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nienna sends Sauron's mind back into the Void.

I sort through Calaelen's memories one by one, changing them to more pleasant experiences for him as I do so.

 

My presence is replaced in his memories with his lover. The torture sessions turn into highly charged and exciting sex games that give him the most wonderful feelings of exhilaration. He has nothing in his memory left of me, or of his captivity. There is no fear, only the feeling of a life well led and truly enjoyed.

 

"It is fortunate that you are such a pervert," Nienna says with no trace of humour. "Only you could think of turning experiences like that into sexual ones."

 

"Do the Valar not have sex, my Lady?" I ask, as I search for more hidden memories.

 

The bitch nearly knocked me from the chair; how I wish many dreadful deaths for her. "You will be punished for your insolence," she replied, with a cold anger. I was lifted up, her hand under my chin, and pulled upright. She touched the elf upon the forehead and he awoke. He had no idea who I was, or that he was in the presence of the one who had made his life such a painful experience.

 

"Are you all right Calaelen?" Nienna asked him most pleasantly, whilst keeping a grip on my arm with her steel like talons.

 

"Yes, my Lady," he answered, looking a bit mystified as to why he was in the room with us.

 

"Jolly good," Nienna beamed. "It was nice to have met you, however time does not wait even for a Vala and so we have to say goodbye."

 

Calaelen left after a few more pleasantries. Nienna and I were alone in the room and I was unable to move except at her bidding.

 

"Lay on the bed, Sauron," she said in a silky, almost seductive voice.

 

Every fibre of my being willed my body not to obey. I could not resist her control and so I did as she bid me. Lying on the bed, I felt her fingers touching the sides of my head, just above the ears. I fear the Valar as much as I do Melkor, because to me, they are capable of the same evil. Never, since leaving the void beyond the Door of Night, had I felt such terror.

 

"Guess where you are going?" her voice was soft behind me.

 

I did not intend giving her the satisfaction of knowing my fear, but she knew anyway. I looked at the ceiling, trying to school my reactions, when my mouth betrayed me. "Please..." One solitary, traitorous word that left me open and exposed, revealing my frailties to one who would make full use of them.

 

"Did you give your victims any consideration?" Nienna breathed in my ear.

 

"No," I said, almost as if an imperceptible feather had escaped from my lips and wafted through the air unto her hearing. My increasing rapidity of breathing was commensurate with my fear; my heart bounding with an incredible swiftness because I knew of what she was capable. There would be no mercy for me. I felt her probing my mind and she beat down all my carefully constructed barriers. Resistance to her influence was futile and I knew, in clear and ringing terms, the folly of not respecting the full power of my enemy.

 

"I could wipe your memories but it amuses me not to. I want you to fear me, forever. Just like the elves still fear you now." Her fingers pressed harder into my skin. "Ah! There it is."

 

I remember screaming as my mind flew through the Door of Night. Lying on the bed, I could feel her fingers still, but I was also in the void, with tentacled creatures, all around reaching up to touch me. Melkor, stood n the middle of them, playing idly with his fiery whip, beautiful and terrible, laughing insanely.

 

"Shall we take up where we left off?" he asked and laughed even harder as a heavy chain swiftly caught up my arms, pulling me into a painfully impossible stretch as the tentacles pulled downwards on my feet. The vertical tug of war ended as one final heave of the chain pulled me free from the slimy appendages of the tentacled beings. My body jerked violently upwards so that for a fleeting moment I marvelled that my arms remained in the sockets. Looking down, I saw that I was suspended a few feet above the writhing mass, and yet they could still reach me. I knew that my death would be forthcoming and prayed to no one that it would be quick because there was nothing that could hear me; I was perfectly isolated without even the smallest glint of hope within my being.

 

Melkor encouraged the creatures to taunt me with their slimy tentacles, as I looked fearfully at them and cried out with each new insult. In my peripheral vision, I could see him giving his whip of fire an experimental crack before aiming it at me. My former master and lover stood in front of me, still laughing and sent the fiery streak crashing against my body. I used to have a great capacity for pain and I always found much pleasure in being disciplined, in my former existence as Melkor's foremost acolyte, but not now. He removed that from me, when he first assaulted my being during that first meeting, after I passed through the Door of Night. All I feel is the sharp sting of raw pain and salty, dry, bitterness of absolute terror. My body writhed and twisted with every slicing tentacled caress, and every fiery whip crack against my skin. My body, taken over by the guttural instincts of the tortured dying, jerked involuntarily as I howled my dismay at the knowledge my ordeal would be forever.

 

Many times over, the burning curled in a spiral, around my body and I screamed until I was hoarse. Then a new sensation. The tentacles pulled my legs apart and two of them entered me from underneath. I have no words to describe neither the pain, nor the feeling of repellent, stomach churning horror, as they emerged from my mouth and then shot into my eye sockets.

 

They were tearing me apart! My cheeks split, and then my jaw snapped in half, as my neck tore into two obscene and bloody sides of flesh. The top of my head exploded outwards as the two tentacles reached for the ceiling. The warm fountain of my own blood gushed upwards and fell back down upon my shoulders, before dripping down to feed the monsters below. I hoped for death and knew that I was not considered worthy, whatever became my most heartfelt desire had little chance of being granted.

 

"Sauron," Nienna's voice called to me. I was back in the room and could not stop my raw, animalistic screams. It was some time before I calmed down. My face was wet with tears and I felt a cold wet cloth being wiped over my cheeks and forehead as I whimpered my distress. She stroked my forehead. "Sauron, it is over." As soon as she released the bonds holding my body to the bed, I reached up with my hands to feel my head. Nothing was amiss and yet I knew the experience had happened. I would be a fool to question whether it had been real.

 

The room changed and I found myself in bed, with Maglor by the side of me; Nienna stood beside him, looking on.

 

"Will he be all right?" Maglor asked anxiously, as he wiped my face with the bed sheet. I quickly held onto him, my arms around his waist and breathed in his gentle kindness. He is my safety and my refuge; how I love him for freely giving me that, which I never knew that I would need.

 

I do not deserve one so lovely. He has never hurt me and yet I was merciless towards him. My tears fell afresh, because in my heart, I knew that I was not worthy of his kindness. "I am sorry, Maglor," I said and felt his warmth as he pulled me up into his arms and held my head to his chest.

 

"Shush, meleth," he said softly, as he stroked my head. "I will look after you. Every thing will be all right."

 

"He will be fine, sweet one," Nienna said. "He now knows the penalty for disobedience."

 

"When you hurt Sauron, you hurt me also," Maglor said to her and held me a fraction tighter.

 

Please Maglor. Say nothing to her. I do not want her to punish you too. I held onto him harder, in a feeble attempt to save him from her, even though I was painfully aware of just how weak I was.

 

"That is because you love him with all your heart," she replied, and passed her hand over the back of my head so that soft waves of calm passed through my being and caused me to relax within my lover's arms. "Be encouraged, sweet Maglor because he loves you too. If he learns from this, then all will end happily."

 

My breathing evened out as the danger passed. I am with Maglor, who holds the key to my fëa and keeps me from my own excess. If I am to be saved, then surely it will be because of him.

 

I must give up on evil and keep the one I love as my focus; I see that now. It will be hard, but all I have to do is remember drowning in his warmth and feeling his hand stroking me, as his voice soothes my very being. It feels new and I have difficulty adjusting to this feeling of weakness, this reversal of roles as Maglor tells me that he will take care of my needs and help me recover.

 

He will save me from myself, and for him to be happy, the dismissal of all that came before will be worth it.

 

I love him and so I owe him that much, at least.


	16. Knowing How to Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron dare not sleep so Maglor talks to him about why they are together.

I lay awake all night, holding onto Maglor; not daring to let go, unless his presence and safety was revealed to be a cruel deception and that I did indeed remain, once again, within the void. He is my refuge and I feel immense guilt that I have never been the same for him. The capacity for guilt, along with other alien emotions, was instilled within me when the Valar remade my body after it was broken by Melkor's tentacled hordes. For the first time in my existence, I feel the need to make reparation for the awfulness that I bestowed upon Maglor, when I held him captive before being defeated in the War of the Ring. How can I ever be worthy of the love he has for me?

 

It pains me that Maglor loves me so much. If he did not, I would not hate myself to the extent that I do now. Kindness is an unknown concept for me and I have never shown any, to anyone. I do not know how to accept his compassion. It brings forth unknown feelings that are uncomfortable to acknowledge, and yet, I would not willingly do without any of them. Every little kindness, every small act of love, every spoken endearment, reinforces the knowledge that I am the most unworthy of anyone who has ever existed. My shame is complete and although it feels uncomfortable, I would not willingly do without it. The new feelings of self-negativity are making me face my past and the iniquities I showered upon the one whom I adore. They stay my hand and make me want to be something else. I want to be worthy of his love, even though I fear this is a hopeless desire. I want to atone for all the hurt I gave him. This is how it must be for those who love and I never knew this before. It was my loss and of my own doing.

 

I realise now that I did not love Melkor; I was held in his thrall and desired to be part of his power. Love is not harsh or cruel, but kind, joyous and compassionate. Until recently, I had never experienced true joy. I thought I had, but now realise that crowing over the defeat of the enemy or basking in the sated aftermath of killing someone, is nothing in comparison. My previous life brought a false sense of happiness and was hollow at best. I always sought for something more, a sense of satisfaction. No matter how many elves I killed or the terror that I instilled, it was never enough, although it would be a lie if I were to say that I did not enjoy doing it. My name became feared throughout Middle-earth so that saying it was banned. I became the one whose name was unspeakable and yet I felt nothing but a transient delight in my notoriety. Such an enjoyment has no value at all and it quickly passed. Emotionally I was stunted and I still am, but now I have the capacity to let go and grow. For Maglor's and my own sake, I must embrace this new opportunity wholeheartedly; I fear the consequences otherwise.

 

Maglor strokes my head as I grip tightly onto him, "Sauron, you have hardly slept." It is still dark outside and there is a chill in the air.

 

"I know," I say as I feel the gentle hand smoothing my hair. "I fear that if I go to sleep that you will not be here in the morning and that I will be back in the void."

 

"I will not let you go back again," Maglor says softly. He has no idea of what he speaks or that he cannot prevent it.

 

"Nienna will do as she pleases," I say to him.

 

"Sauron, you are fighting with the past." He says and kisses my forehead. "Would it be so hard to let go and accept your new life?"

 

"I have so many new feelings and I do not know what to do or how to feel them. Does one ever get rid of the feeling of guilt?" I asked.

 

"No," he replied. "One can never get rid of the feeling but you can learn to accept it and move on. Guilt is what stops us from hurting others more than we already have."

 

"I wish I had felt guilt when we were on Middle-earth, then I would not have done the things..." I cannot say the words, my chest hurts, and in my heart, I know that I am lying; only Maglor would have been safe, everything else would have happened as it did. There is a large lump of pain inside, making it hard to breathe. I hold on even harder to the one I love, as the first tear falls down my cheek and splashes silently on his chest. My humiliation is complete.

 

"I know, I know," he soothes, and again, I know that I will never be worthy of his forgiveness.

 

"Nothing I say, or do, will ever atone for my treatment of you," I sob and more tears fall away from my eyes. "I am so sorry." I never cried on Middle-earth. Not once. This seems to be one of the new abilities I am gifted with and the one that most reveals my pain. I would willingly give it back if I could, as it makes me feel weak and I do not seem to be able to control its occurrence.

 

"Sauron," Maglor says, still stroking my head but also moving down to my shoulders. "Your need for atonement is misplaced. I suffered at your hands and believed it was a punishment decided by the Valar, for my evil deeds and accepted it, so that I could feel less guilty about my past. They let me come to live here and Nienna told me that I had paid many times over for being a kinslayer and nothing they did could equal your treatment of me on Middle-earth." I kept saying that I was sorry but he told me to be quiet and listen, so I did. "Because I looked upon your treatment of me as the punishment for my past iniquities and truly believed that I deserved all you inflicted upon me, then the Valar made it so. I know that you would disagree but they have shown me nothing but compassion and everything they do is guided by that principle, even if we cannot understand their ways."

 

"If they are compassionate, why did they make me your lover?" I ask, and it is a valid question. I was the bane of his life and the one who instilled terror in him during his miserable existence as my captive. It seems a particularly cruel thing for the Valar to do to him.

 

"Because you loved me, even then," he says and I listen in disbelief.

 

"How?" I ask. "I was incapable of feeling love for anyone. I hurt you."

 

"You always healed my injuries and my skin," he says, almost as if it is a fond remembrance."Many times you said how attracted you were to my beauty."

 

"That was desire," I remonstrated.

 

"According to Nienna, it was love. You did not recognise it as such because it was a feeling that you suppressed in favour of being evil. The two cannot co-exist and she said that you have been given a second chance, because if you had not been evil, you would have been just as mighty and loved by all." Maglor pulled my body up, so that our faces were together, and kissed me on the lips.

 

"I wonder what it would have been like to be loved by all," I mused.

 

"There is very little difference between the intensity of both emotions and so I would guess there would have been very little change at all. Your surroundings might have been nicer though." He smiles at me and strokes my face. "You ask why I love you and it is simple, the Valar made it so. I did not love you then, in fact, I hated you and prayed for your destruction; however, I do love you now. I cannot explain the way things are, and it seems that I am just as much a pawn of their machinations as you are. I really do not want to keep talking at length about our past because it still pains me that the one who I love so much now, hurt me beyond the limits of my endurance."

 

I promise that I will try my hardest to be worthy of you," I say to Maglor and bury my head on his shoulder, breathing in his sweet warmth. "I am so sorry that the Valar compounded my cruelty with even more of their own."

 

"They are not cruel," he said. "I am a kinslayer; I deserve nothing better than you."

 

That stung me to my heart. "Then how can you love me?"

 

"I deserve nothing better and neither do you," Maglor said. "We are as bad as each other in our own ways."

 

 

"You were never as bad as me," I say, shocked that he could think such a thing.

 

"Is it a competition?" he asked.

 

"No, of course not," I replied. "You seemed so innocent and incorrupt. You saved Elrond and Elros and bought them up as your own elflings."

 

"There were advantages to keeping them alive and it was a pleasant interlude watching them grow," Maglor sighed. "We burnt villages to the ground, killed those who opposed us, killed those who did not oppose us, killed those who were in the way, killed whole villages of elves so that they could not point to our whereabouts and killed for sport and because we could. We lost sight of the meaning of our war and were overtaken by bloodlust."

 

"At least you did not kill any elflings," I say, knowing that when I killed an elfling in front of him, that he became mute and started to fade. It had been the final straw for him and his body gave up to the grief; it took all my skill to keep him from passing and yet I wonder why it was so important for me to keep him alive.

 

"I did kill elflings, even babies," Maglor said. "When you killed the elfling he pleaded with you to let him live, just before you slit his throat. "When I killed my last elfling, he said the same words, just before I slit his throat. I knew then that I could never be forgiven and my heart broke because I had truly repented of everything I did and it would never be enough."

 

"But it was enough," I said softly.

 

"My final punishment was to love you, it seems," Maglor says with a small laugh.

 

"Mine was to love the one I feel most guilty about hurting," I replied. "I do not think that feeling will ever leave me."

 

"Neither of us have our old bodies, meleth," Maglor says in his soft voice. "We are made anew and have a new life. Let us look forward so that we do not have to look back, because I for one cannot bear to look back ever again. There are some things that are still too raw and if we are to start afresh then we need to leave them behind."

 

"But how can you be so dismissive of my past?" I ask, wondering at his capacity to do so, in spite of everything.

 

"Because when I dismiss your past, I can also dismiss mine. I saw what happened to you through the Door of Night. Nienna showed me your image on the wall and I saw everything." He grips me a little tighter. "Then she told me of your repeated sufferings when you were in the void before you came to me. Look upon it as your punishment, just like I did and then move on." He kissed my cheek. "You must realise, meleth, both of us have paid many times over for our past deeds. We need to let go and adapt to our new lives and become the ones we were meant to be. I cannot do this any other way."

 

"You are right," I say, horrified at the thought that my lover had to watch my sufferings at the hands of Melkor. How painful it must have been for him and I feel naked and exposed, inside and out, because he has seen me as such.

 

There can be no going back. To do so would be a betrayal to ourselves, and all we have to look forward to. It concerns me less that I still enjoy the feeling of fear that I instil in every elf who sees me even now, and I tell him so. He says that this will change as I allow more of the good feelings into my life.

 

In all honesty, I can say that I do not care if every elf remains scared of me. Maglor is my focus and I will move forward because of him. No one else matters and so I will play by the rules. I have a new future to safeguard and it is not mine alone.

 

For Maglor, I will do all that I can. For the one I love, I will make sure that I do not fall.


	17. Accusation of Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron treats another elf.

Nienna took me to the same room as before and bade me to sit on the chair.

 

"You need not worry about going back into the void, so long as you have learnt from the experience and wish to move forward," she said.

 

I just sat there and said nothing. I did not know what I could say. My last innocuous remark had driven her into a fury and I did not dare open my mouth.

 

"Answer me," she snapped.

 

"My Lady, I fear to answer you, in case I offend you," I said. "I do not want to go back through the void because I have said the wrong thing."

 

"Oh, how prettily we speak," she taunted and I kept my mind blank, suddenly aware that maybe it was not what I said that had made her furious with me, but my thoughts. She could read my mind and so I had to be very careful. "You are blocking your thoughts," Nienna accused.

 

"I do not want a stray, uncontained thought to send me back to the void, my Lady; I do not know what I said to make you send me there. If I had known I would not have said it." I replied, and bit the corner of my thumbnail as a diversion, hoping that I had not said too much to the psychotic Vala.

 

"It wasn't anything you thought or said," she replied. "We decided to send you anyway, so that you did not forget you reason for being here."

 

How I hate the Valar and their random cruelties, yet I can do nothing. I do not share Maglor's view that they are compassionate and that everything is for the best. In my opinion, they are no better than Melkor or me. I said nothing and hoped the moment would pass.

 

"You are going to alter the memories of an elf, one you killed when he was a child. He was reborn mute, still shocked and has remained so." Nienna said. "We could have cured him but it suits us to let you do it."

 

The elf was brought in and his mouth opened in a silent scream of terror as he recognised me. Ah well, I still have it. The elves accompanying him, held onto his arms as he fought to escape and they guided him to the bed. Nienna ordered that they strap him onto the bed and all the time he struggled as though his life depended on it, which he probably thought it did. I found it most amusing but took care not to reveal my lightness of mood.

 

He looked at Nienna with confusion, wondering why someone who had previously seemed to be sympathetic, now wanted to subject him to an awful ordeal. Nienna ignored him and did not say a word.

 

"Sauron," she said to me. "Proceed."

 

The elf tried to look backwards at me; his eyes pleading with me to spare him. I touched my fingers to the sides of his head and told him to sleep. He fought my influence but in the end, he succumbed. Sorting through his thoughts and memories, I found the scene that I was looking for. He was the elfling who I killed in front of Maglor, causing him to fade. On the long journey from his village, he saw orcs rape and kill his nana.

 

"My Lady," I said to Nienna. "I wonder how far to go with this. His nana was killed by orcs and if he ever meets his mother again here on Valinor, she will tell him so. I would need to see her as well or alter his memories in such a way that he ceases to experience pain from them.

 

"It might be better to concentrate on what happened when he was your prisoner," she replied. "We have thought of this problem and as yet we have no answer to it. We learn as we proceed and that is all that we can do."

 

"I think a light touch is better than going too far and getting it wrong," I suggested.

 

"Do what you think is the best for him," Nienna smiled.

 

I concentrated on his arrival to my stronghold in Barad-dûr. The dark gates became golden and entwined with flowers. Beyond, the dark tower became a palace of light. All meetings with me, I wiped completely from his mind. I then suggested to his mind that even though there had been an awful journey, that he had escaped it and reached a place of safety. He will remember that the death of his mother caused him to fade, which would explain his death, and that he was well looked after until he died. Nienna was very approving and commended me on my compassion. I wondered if she was being sarcastic but nothing in her voice or face suggested that she was.

 

It felt weird being the compassionate Dark Lord Sauron. The thought made me smile and Nienna, who can read my mind, laughed and told me that I was not the Dark Lord of anywhere, anymore. I allowed myself a smile and reflected that when I have treated the last elf, only then will I have lost that title because to every elf on Middle-earth I will always be who I once was. How little Nienna knows about actual reality.

 

There were no other memories that needed altering and so I woke the elf up. He looked confused and I smiled at him. He smiled back and so the treatment must have worked. "Why am I here?" he asked uncertainly, his voice croaking because he had not used it since his birth.

 

"You had lost your voice and now you have it back again," I said. "That is why you were here."

 

"Your voice will improve as you use it," Nienna said, whilst playing with a bead on her bracelet. "Now, do you feel alright otherwise?"

 

"I feel fine," he replied. "Although, I cannot remember planning to see a healer."

 

Sauron the healer, how ironic!

 

"Splendid," Nienna said and rose from her chair and opened the door. "If you go with Badhoron here," she indicated to the elf just outside the door, "He will take you to your carriage."

 

The elf waved goodbye to me, so I smiled and waved to him so that Nienna could see me playing the game and doing all I could to move forward.

 

"I am very pleased with you, Sauron," Nienna said and whacked me playfully on the knee with her feathered fan. "You put little touches in that I did not think you capable of. The golden gate with the flowers was a lovely touch, as was the care of his needs whilst he was fading. See, you are capable of great beauty and kindness also."

 

I looked at her in confusion and she explained that by giving him a memory so beautiful, I had shown compassion for his plight, even if I did not intend to. I did not answer. Privately I wondered why I had done this. Maybe this is a consideration to contemplate another time.

 

I went back to the room I shared with Maglor and Nienna accompanied me, talking excitedly about the new building they had created where I could treat all the elves with painful memories of my treatment of them. I have moved significantly forward today and it is a relief. I am one step closer to keeping Maglor forever and several steps further away from the void.

 

Who knows, I may even enjoy this new life.


	18. My Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron is killed.

I continue to delight the bitch Nienna with my progress.

 

I dare not content myself with idle fantasies of tearing Nienna limb from limb as she pleads for mercy. Not because she can pry into my mind or make my life extremely unpleasant, although one might think so considering my past experiences at her hands. No, it is because she is as evil as I am and far more refined and capricious in its deployment. I have truly met my match and she is better at the game than I am. I would feel a sense of failure if she prised my fantasies from me and sneered at them as puerile; I would rather abandon my thoughts, than give her the chance to do that. However, I refuse to feel completely at a loss. I terrorised her little pets for thousands of years. No elf, ever felt completely safe living on Middle-earth, not even in the protected realms and that is quite an achievement.

 

Nienna is regarded as a force of compassionate forgiveness; she weeps for the misfortunes and trials of the elves and yet that is all she does. Until now, she has never lifted a finger to help them. It is significant that when I tortured my prisoners on Middle-earth, not one elf in my care was ever gifted the early death or release from their torture that they invoked her name for. I decided when they should die and she never intervened once. It used to amuse me when they cried out her name in their desperate misery, but now I am repulsed by it. Not because I tortured them, but because they were led to believe that Nienna actually cared about them and was looking after their welfare. They were fully prepared to die, believing that she would make their passing easier, somehow. At least I never gave any of my captives false hope. They knew there was no way out, except to die, and that is what they did. None escaped. No prisoner ever saw the rays of Anor shining upon them once they entered my stronghold, except on the rare occasion where I might let one go on purpose, never for any altruistic reason.

 

I remember one elf who lay on the floor curled up like a small elfling, holding his open belly together as his most secret parts leaked over the floor. He wept and pleaded with Nienna to deliver him from the terrible pain.

 

"Nienna will not help you," I told him and knelt down beside him. Looking at my hand I decided that it would suit the purpose more if it became a sharp, black claw. "Do you truly want to die?"

 

"Yes," he said through his tears. "Please, let me die. I cannot take anymore."

 

"You ask so prettily," I taunted whilst running a claw gently along his back.

 

"What's that?" he asked fearfully, his body shuddering violently.

 

I showed him the claw and he begged me not to use it on him. He cried and pleaded, then lost hope and invoked Nienna's name, repeating it over and over, as if the mantra would remove him from what lay ahead.

 

"She is not here for you, and will not give you the release you desire," I taunted and lifted his chin up so that I could see both of his eyes. "She has never been there for you or any elf."

 

He stared at me tears running down his face. "Then I am without hope," he cried.

 

"The only one you can rely upon is me," I told him and delighted in the confusion on his face. "I am the only one who can give you what you want, not because the Valar cannot help you. They are all-powerful and can do as they please. They choose not to help the elves, because they care not what happens to them."

 

"But Nienna weeps for us," he replied whilst wincing at the ever increasing pain.

 

"That is all she does," I sneered.

 

"Námo takes our fëa," he said.

 

"If he did then he should have taken yours by now," I laughed. "Would you not agree?"

 

"But..."

 

"No," I said softly, as if imparting a big secret. "The Valar will never help you. I on the other hand have no more use for you, and so as a parting gift, I will give you what you desire. I will give you what Nienna cares not to give you." I motioned for him to take a hand away from his blood-oozing belly and he did. "When my name is invoked, and a request made of me, I always answer," I said gently as my claw burrowed between the slit muscle and behind the large artery that runs down the centre of the abdomen from the cleft in the ribs. "I promise you that it will be quick."

 

My claw sliced through the artery and he gasped with the pain. As he lost consciousness, he smiled at me and told me that he was free and beyond anything more that I could do to him. He was wrong, but I really did have no more use for him, and so I decided against any further action.

 

Námo appeared beside me. "Take his fëa and get out," I ordered.

 

"The time has not yet come for dealing with your wickedness, but it will," he sneered at me. "You will know suffering as you have never known it before."

 

"That will never happen, you impotent fool," I said with no small amount of scorn and walked away laughing loudly.

 

Old memories, they arrive unexpected, and when one can take the least delight in them.

 

Today I wiped the memories of that particular elf. I replaced the dying by Sauron's claw scenario with the fictitious memory of dying a glorious death at Helm's Deep. It will not occur to him that he did not actually fight in the battle or that it happened many years after he died. He went away happy and Nienna sat smiling that I had done such a good job.

 

"My Lady," I said after Nienna had seen the happy elf out of the door.

 

"Yes, Sauron?"

 

"I foresee some difficulty here."

 

"Go on," she said in a thoroughly unpleasant and menacing tone.

 

"I am altering elves memories and yet when they meet up with others who used to know them they might tell them what really happened, therefore undoing all my work." I wondered if she would have one of her characteristic fits of anger where I would be made to suffer or whether she would give my point the consideration it deserved.

 

"I see," she looked perturbed. "You have done very well so far. What would you suggest?"

 

"Well, my Lady," I said, hoping that she did not throw me into the void for pointing out a flaw in her quick fix plan. "I suggest that instead of wiping their memories, that I should take the edge off them, in anyway you choose, of course. The process might be made much slower, so that they can adapt naturally and take part in the process."

 

"Show me what you mean," she said, and pointed over at the wall. "Project your mind onto that blank space over there and show me what you propose."

 

I showed elves having the memories taken so that they knew they had died or suffered but could not remember the experience fully or the full unpleasantness of it. Moreover, the previous life experience did not seem to upset or affect their ability to enjoy life in Valinor.

 

"You might need to see the elves over a period of time," Nienna suggested, "and take full life histories, so that you can coordinate the experiences of whole families so that everything matches up."

 

"My lady," I ventured. "Maybe we should start with those in most need and include their families too?"

 

"I think that is the way we will have to go," she said unhappily. "I do wish you had not been so wholehearted in your evil."

 

I did not tell her that it was due to their unwitting assistance, in their refusal to aid the elves, that they ensured my success. She guessed anyway. She made her presence known inside my thoughts and punished me with the thing she knew I feared the most. Waves of extreme nausea shocked through my being as pain ripped into me, a thousand tentacles shredding me to tiny pieces as I screamed in my agony. She used my memories of the void to torture me. When she was finished, I lay on the floor unable to move, complete once again in body and mostly uninjured, but still in agony and hallucinating. Tentacles moved towards me a second time. In my extreme terror, I cried out for them to keep away, but they edged towards me and three entered my mouth and nose with a suddenness that sickened and terrified me. I gagged and hoped for release, but then I remembered Maglor and wanted more than ever to stay alive.

 

"Interesting that you do not invoke my name," Nienna taunted and pulled the tentacle out of my mouth. "After all, I am the one causing it and I can make it stop."

 

"Why would you help me?" I asked, flinching in pain as she placed her hand upon my forehead and it seared red hot into my skin.

 

"Exactly," she replied and waved her hand. The tentacles disappeared. "Why would I help the elves? They were the cause of their own troubles. All I could do was grieve for them as they fulfilled Eru's role for their race. It was Eru's command that I grieve and so I did. Otherwise...I would not have done." She added the last part as if she were lost in some memory, but quickly came to and twisted one of my ears, so hard that the skin split and the cartilage separated from my head.

 

My body arched with the overwhelming pain and when she let go I could not stop shaking and yet I still had one thing to say to her, even though my tongue was swollen and bloody beyond measure, due to the rape of my mouth by the tentacles. "My Lady, Melkor and I were the cause of their problems; they merely reacted to the events we set in motion. We cannot blame them for their own troubles."

 

"They did not have to react. Dead or alive they would have ended up in Valinor anyway." She seemed so cold hearted and matter-of-fact about it.

 

I could not believe my ears. I lay on the floor stunned from her revelation that she had never cared for the elves. Perhaps that is why she had pleaded for Melkor's release so that he could finish the job quickly, all those years ago. I was covered in my own vomit, my bodily functions were uncontrolled during the ordeal and I was wet and soiled. My mouth tasted of blood and tentacle slime. It was a bitter and confusing realisation that I cared more about the fate of the elves when they inhabited Middle-earth than the Valar did, even if I was the cause of their unhappiness.

 

Nienna pulled me up by the neck of my robe. As usual, the walls of the room gradually faded and the one of the rooms I lived in, came into view.

 

She let go and I dropped to the floor. "What have you done to him?" Maglor screamed at her.

 

"Maglor," I called to him, but he ignored me. He stood before Nienna and shouted at her, demanding to know why she was continuously cruel to me.

 

"Because I feel like it," she smiled.

 

"He has already paid many times over for everything he has ever done." I had never seen Maglor this angry and he looked as though he would attack her. I desperately hoped that he did not.

 

"He learned nothing by it and so he is still being punished," Nienna smirked. "If you continue to defend him then I will punish him further. He will be your whipping boy."

 

Maglor walked towards me and took my head in his arms whilst the bitch Nienna sneered at him. His eyes watered but the tears did not spill over his lower lids. "I love you," he said, as though he were dealing with a very difficult moral problem. "I cannot let you suffer anymore. It is too painful and I love you too much."

 

My eyes widened in realisation. "NO!" I cried and I saw him mumble that he was sorry, before he jerked my head to the side and broke my neck.

 

Once again, I was dead.


	19. Manwë’s Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manwe reads sauron and Maglor's minds to find out what Nienna has been up to.

I was dead, but Manwë soon put paid to that. I awoke with my neck at a strange angle, the Lord of Airs staring into my face. "He will be all right, Maglor," he said and then looked at me. "This will be unpleasant, Sauron but unless you want Maglor to clean you, it is necessary." He waved his hand and the soiling and vomit went into reverse. Not to put too delicate a point on it, my breakfast was once again inside my stomach and everything else that had been expelled was now back where it had come from. Manwë was correct, it was not an experience I would willingly choose but it meant that Maglor would not have to clean me. I was paralysed, unable to move even a finger and yet I did not care. I was beyond doing so. I had given up.

 

Manwë put his hands to the back of my neck and straightened my head. "Nienna tells me that you were extremely rude to her and callous about the fate of the elves also." I started to protest but he told me to be quiet; throughout I was very aware that I remained paralysed from the neck down. I could feel, but all movement was beyond any capability. "Were it not for Maglor, I would throw you back into the void. You have done nothing but resist all attempts at rehabilitation."

 

"That is not true, my Lord," Maglor said. "Nienna punishes Sauron whether he has said anything or not. She says that it amuses her and then she makes me watch what she does to him."

 

"What do you care?" Manwë thundered. "You snapped Sauron's neck just now. Do we kill those we are supposed to love?"

 

Maglor cowered against the wall. "I did it because I love him," he cried out in his fear. "I do not want him to suffer anymore. Even if that means I never feel his love again. Better that Sauron dies and does not exist, than for Nienna to keep hurting him." He looked at Manwë, the fear plain on his face. "All she ever does it hurt him and it is killing me."

 

"Both of you had better be telling the truth, or else I will throw you both into the void," Manwë warned, his temper cooling with Maglor's words. "It is a serious business accusing a Valar, especially one whom the elves hold a deep reverence for." He walked over to me and waved his hand over my body. I floated upwards and over towards the bed where I was placed down on the mattress. "Maglor, lay beside Sauron."

 

Maglor lay beside me and I felt him hold my hand. It was a small comfort in the new despair of our lives and I welcomed it. "I am going to read both of your minds. There will be severe punishments for both of you if I find that you have lied to me. At this moment, I am prepared for you to carry on as you were before, but once I start to read your mind, it will be irreversible. Do you still want to proceed?"

 

"I do," Maglor replied. I was not asked.

 

The Lord of Airs put his hand on Maglor's forehead and I felt the grip of his hand loosen as he slipped into unconsciousness. "Sauron," he asked. "Do you love Maglor?"

 

"Yes, my Lord," I replied.

 

"Do you harbour any secret feelings for Melkor still?"

 

"No, my Lord, except that I hate him."

 

"Hatred is very close to love," he said as his hand moved to the top of Maglor's head.

 

"Yes, my Lord." I replied carefully in case he was trying to trick me. "I am convinced that as much as I love Maglor, I hate Melkor. They are the diametric opposites."

 

"If you love Maglor, then why did you allow him to submit to my hand?" He seemed almost non-committal.

 

"My Lord, I do not seek to control Maglor; it would always be his choice. Also, he is telling the truth."

 

"It seems that he is indeed telling the truth," Manwë replied and took his hand away. "Wake up, Maglor."

 

Maglor awoke instantly. "Is it over?" he asked.

 

"It is Sauron's turn now," Manwë said and put his hand over my forehead. I felt my eyelids closing and I was back in the void with the Lord of Airs beside me. The tentacled creatures shied away in terror as we walked along the path.

 

Melkor stood in the clearing, looking as stunningly beautiful as the last time I met him. My legs weakened and each step forward took a monumental effort of physical will to achieve. "Please my Lord," I begged. "Please do not let him hurt me."

 

"Look at how he whimpers," Melkor sneered. "I will enjoy applying even more foul torments and I will not stay my hand. Look at him. How could I have ever hoped anything of such a lowly insect?"

 

"Be quiet," Manwë ordered. "I will decide if he is for you or not."

 

"This is my domain Manwë," Melkor warned.

 

"And I can crush it in an instant," The Lord of Airs spat back. I trembled beside him, hoping that I would not be left behind. A warm hand pressed against my forehead and I felt myself slipping into dark sleep.

 

When I awoke, I was in the room watching myself treating an elf; it was the time that Nienna sent me back to the void and then pulled me out again; the one where the tentacled monsters killed me and tore my body to bits. He watched as I said the innocuous reply, after she accused me of being a pervert. She hit me across the head so hard that I fell from my chair onto the floor and she stood over me like some deranged harridan roaring her displeasure at me. The scene faded and then I saw the events of today being replayed.

 

I was wrong in one thing. She used my mind to see the creatures and then she summoned them up from the void and they appeared for real. I had assumed that I had imagined all of it. I watched my body being abused, yet again by creatures that were as real as I was. Shaking with terror, I clung to Manwë's arm, looking to him for protection. He looked shocked and angry and I wondered exactly what the real story was behind it all.

 

"Sleep," he said and again I fell into a deep dreamless sleep. I awoke on the bed with Maglor sitting beside me.

 

"Are you all right?" Maglor asked me and kissed my lips. Now that I was able to move again, I turned over, passed my arms around his waist, and buried my face in his hip.

 

Manwë told me to look at him and so I did, albeit reluctantly. "It seems that for the first time in your life you have been telling the truth. Neither of you have lied. You are safe from being sent into the void; however, I would like to know one thing Sauron." I looked up, allowing myself a grateful smile. "How did Nienna manage to take a creature from the void and bring it here?"

 

"My Lord, I do not know; maybe the creatures were formed from my memories?" I suggested.

 

"Not possible, it is the first thing I tried when I put you back to sleep," he seemed troubled. "This is not good, not good at all."

 

"My Lord," Maglor said. "Thank you for saving us. You have brought an incredible lightness to our hearts."

 

"My Lord, I would like to add my thanks to that of Maglor's," I said. It seemed the right thing to do.

 

"I did what was right, nothing more." He seemed preoccupied and I wondered what was wrong. "Until we clear this up, Nienna will not be overseeing your progress, I will supervise your progression instead."

 

"Thank you my Lord," I said with relief.

 

I have no choice but to change and to do it wholeheartedly, as Manwë is not easily fooled; he will know if I do not. He knows that I do not repent of my actions in the past, except with Maglor; however, he does not expect me to do so. He would rather that I left it behind and committed myself to a different future.

 

"I have read your mind, Sauron and I believe you have given your future a great deal of thought. You value Maglor's love so much, that you would do anything for him and you are working on mentally giving up your past as well, so that you can have a future with the one you love. You have tried and as such I am satisfied that you have moved forward." Manwë smiled at me. "I would not have believed it possible, but I am convinced that one day, you will be as your old self, when you were innocent and Eru's creation was still young and incorrupt; before Melkor seduced you."

 

"Thank you my Lord," I replied.

 

"I think that we need to put aside this recent pain and concentrate fully on the future," Manwë told us both and then he smiled. "I have decided that tomorrow, you shall both have a day of great happiness. You are soul mates. There is no reason why you should not be married. I will leave you now and in the morning, I expect you both to have your vows ready for the ceremony."

 

Maglor whooped with joy and I looked dumbstruck, I never dared to believe in the past that I would be granted any sort of permanency; surely this must mean that I would not be sent back to the void. "I do not know what to say," I said. "Thank you my Lord, I am overwhelmed."

 

Maglor threw his arms around me and kissed me hard on the lips, "We have got all we ever wanted."

 

"I am not sending you back through the void, Sauron. However, if you give me cause to punish you, I can be just as fearsome as Melkor. As your master you will find that I am fair and you will not be punished unjustly."

 

"Thank you, my Lord," I said with the joy showing on my face. "We have been given a second chance, meleth," I said to Maglor.

 

Manwë stood beside me and took my chin with his hand. "I am your master and that is what you will call me. You will serve no other but me and I will reward you well. Do not fail me." Before I could answer, he disappeared.

 

It makes no difference to me whom I call Master and in a way, having one is a protection for both Maglor and me. It is intriguing how Nienna was able to summon a creature from the void and bypass the Door of Night. I have my suspicions but dare not voice them, not even to Maglor, in case I displease Manwë, who has saved me from the two who would do me harm.

 

It is a mystery and one that I do not have the means to solve. Therefore, I will put it to the back of my mind and concentrate on what I am going to say to Maglor tomorrow when we marry. That is a much happier prospect than anything my old life could offer me.


	20. The Wedding and the Door of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor attends Sauron and Maglor's wedding.

I married Maglor in the morning. As a concession, Manwë informed me that on this most special of days I was to call him My Lord and not Master. It would be for one day only, but it would be enough.

 

We entered the Great Hall of the Valar and stood in front of Manwë's throne. To one side was Melkor, bound in chains and sneering at us. Next to him sat Nienna, who was also bound. Maglor looked too angry to smile but I gave them my broadest grin. My former mistress glared at me and Melkor spewed a torrent of abuse towards us.

 

"Quiet!" Manwë commanded.

 

We exchanged vows and I marvelled that in my former life I would have delighted in breaking them as soon as I could; however, this time I hoped with all my heart, as black as it is that my new existence with Maglor would last forever.

 

"Stand over there," Manwë said to us after the ceremony was over. "I have a judgement to fulfil."

 

We did as we were bid and watched as he faced Melkor and Nienna. Then he started to speak and it was as if all the thunder of Middle-earth had collected within one place and issued from him. His crashing voice was at once awesome and most terrifying. It shook the ground we stood upon and made the walls tremble and vibrate from their foundations. Maglor held on tightly to my hand.

 

I have seen Manwë this angry once before and it did not bode well for the one on the receiving end. The other Valar looked on, no doubt thankful that they were not the subject of his displeasure; in fact, their relief was almost tangible as he directed his sharp, penetrating gaze towards the two captive Valar.

 

"How long have you been lovers?" his voice crashed towards them. Both looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "Nienna, did you go willingly to him or did he seduce you?" He waited. "Answer me!" The ground shook and I held onto Maglor to stop him from falling.

 

"I went willingly," Nienna replied and the tears ran down her cheeks.

 

"Meleth," Melkor said to her and squeezed her hand to reassure. "You do not have to answer him. We already know our sentence, do not be frightened."

 

"I do not want you to do to me what you did to Sauron," she said in a barely audible whisper. "I saw the moving paintings that you sent."

 

"I would never do that to you. I adore you," Melkor replied and held her chained hand to his lips. "My attempted conquest of Middle-earth was all for you, melethen. It would have been ours only. Even though we have lost everything you are still my queen; we will rule the void together."

 

"You would have killed every living being on Middle-earth to achieve your plan," Manwë thundered. "Not even a Valar can overrule Eru's song."

 

"How do you know? Have you tried?" Melkor smirked, with the bravery of those who have truly lost all hope. "Your theatricals are good enough to scare your minions but do not work with me. Now get on with it, I want to spend the rest of eternity with my wife; we have been separated for long enough already."

 

There was a collective gasp of shock from the assembled Valar and even from myself. "When did you two enter such an unholy union?" Manwë said in a voice that was at once quiet and loud.

 

"Ah, Manwë," Melkor smirked. "You are my brother but I do not have to tell you everything."

 

"WHEN?" Manwë roared.

 

Melkor merely smirked. "You bore me Manwë, and so does your new slave; he always did." I felt nothing but hatred for him as he looked my way and smirked. "You were so easy," he said directly to me.

 

"Enough," Manwë said and waved his hand. A door appeared in the wall. "You will spend eternity in the void, with only each other for company. The tentacled creatures will be beyond your reach and will not be able to interact with you. You will have each other for company in the darkness with no additional stimuli, for eternity." Manwë gave the most dangerous smile I have ever witnessed. "How long will it be before you turn on each other?"

 

"We will never turn on each other," Melkor said defiantly. "I love Nienna and so that is where your suppositions fall flat. Everything I have ever done, including seducing Sauron and making him my filthy, weak and ineffective slave was done for her. Nienna has always been my focus and all the power that I gained was so that we would be the most supremely powerful rulers in our own land. After all, you have Aman, why should we not have Middle-earth?"

 

"You are mad," Manwë said softly. He turned to Nienna. "You endangered the whole of Valinor and our existence by bringing the creatures from the void. I cannot allow you to live among us."

 

Nienna looked up and spat in his face as a last desperate gesture. "I have always hated you," she said, her voice filled with venom. "And I detest those who serve you." She looked around at all the Valar who were standing, silently watching, and scowled. She ignored me completely.

 

They walked through the Door of Night, their bonds falling away and Melkor's arm around Nienna. He was telling her that everything would be all right. The Door shut, and the room we were in was filled with an oppressive silence.

 

"I hope that is the last of the evil we will ever see in Aman or even Middle-earth," Manwë said. "Now that the sadness is over we have the joy of wishing our newly-weds a happy life together. Maglor is redeemed by his efforts to change and Sauron is in the process of doing so. I have every expectation that he will succeed." He walked over to Maglor and me. "I prefer to think of you as my servant, Sauron," he said. "However, you are in effect my slave, but with the freedoms and trust that a servant would enjoy. I would hope that you do not fail me because this is the only way you can eventually earn your freedom."

 

Manwë then addressed Maglor. "By necessity, you are also bound to me, Maglor. However, you do not need to earn your freedom. As soon as Sauron achieves it for himself then you will be granted it immediately."

 

"Thank you, my Lord," Maglor answered and clutched my hand a little tighter.

 

"This is a day of joy for you both and yet a day of sadness for those of the remaining Valar," Manwë said. "It would be better that I take you to your new home and you can celebrate together. We would not seek to mar your happiness with the grief of our loss."

 

He waved his hand and we found ourselves outside, standing on an enclosed beach. In the background stood a large house, nearly as big as a castle and as grand as a palace. "This house is where you shall live," Manwë said to us both. "This is where you shall treat the elves who need your help with the memories that still affect them. Do not let me down or make me regret my decision."

 

We agreed immediately. Manwë had shown how subtle his punishments could be, far exceeding the brutal coarseness of his brother. Melkor and Nienna would eventually spend their time raging at one another for the mistakes each had made and their unhappiness would last forever. That had to be a more terrible punishment than anything I had endured at his hand, because at least one small part of me still had a seed of hope for change, of the pattern being broken and not repeating itself. They had nothing, no hope at all.

 

I still feel no guilt for my actions on Middle-earth and I suppose that in a way this makes me more objective. I will not be swayed by mawkish regret and will proceed to do what is best for every elf who comes to me for the painful memories I caused them, without any adverse influences caused by any guilt I might carry. I will do this to please Manwë, because in his own way, he is much more formidable than Melkor and I dare not cross him; I have too much to lose. With the sharpest clarity, I realise that I am fortunate. My life has taken a different direction and I have adapted. In all of this, I have not lost myself. I have not lost who I am.

 

"Your new rooms are within the building. I leave it to you to find them and I hope you enjoy living here." Manwë smiled. "Enjoy yourself, enjoy one another. I will visit again in a few days time and then we need to set to work."

 

I am hopeful and as we walk to the house, I know that this existence, even as a slave, offers far more than my old life ever did.

 

We make our own happiness; we also engineer our own misery. Sometimes happiness is not what we thought it to be. It is a hard lesson to learn.


	21. Celebrìan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron cures Celebrian.

Maglor and I enjoy a spectacular view from the balcony of our rooms. As far as the eye can see there is the vast expanse of ocean, fringed by a wide curving beach of the purest cream coloured sand. The pink sandstone walls of the house are flecked by the shadows of the tall trees swaying gently in the seaweed and pine fragrant breeze near the edge of the balcony. Our floor, which is off limits to all but staff, is three floors above the ground at the very top of the building. The double doors lead out to a wrought iron platform adorned with rails of scroll and latticework with various leaves and fruit decoratively intertwined in the black woven metal. Inside the apartment there is a door which leads to a private garden on the roof, which is where Maglor grows hanging plants over the metal railings because it amuses him to do so.

 

Behind the house are formal gardens and grassy areas shaded by wide branched trees. Beyond that is a sheer wall of mountainous rock extending down to the sea like two arms embracing the ocean. This keeps the beach totally private and enclosed. No visitors from outside can accidently wander into our domain, just as no elf can escape before they are cured.

 

The new arrivals are brought in a covered carriage drawn by horses, through a hidden tunnel carved out of the mountain. The tunnel exists only when Manwë wishes it to, and I realised very early on that as much as the patients were captive, we were also unable to escape.

 

It matters not. Maglor and I think of our apartment in the pink house as our haven. He feels safe there, and I value the fact that I can be unguarded in my expression. My new master is not interested in spying on us and using whatever he gleans to score cheap, piecemeal victories; he is interested in the bigger picture. Manwë is genuinely concerned about the plight of the elves in Valinor and sympathises with their problems so that they love him. I will never understand how he is so easily able to win their hearts; he did precious little to protect them when they lived on Middle-earth. I consider that the neglect of the elves by the Valar when they lived there had a direct contributory effect on my ability to take power, and yet this one significant fact is never realised or remembered. Manwë could have crushed me in an instant and yet he chose not to. It is a sobering thought that I might have been working for him or fulfilling his plans even then, without realising it.

 

Maglor has changed. He is no longer the nervous elf who lived with me in those awful rooms that Nienna assigned to us. He smiles and delights in our new captivity. It is better than anything he ever expected or thought he deserved. As for myself, I know that I could never have expected such a location. I will not say that I do not deserve it because everything is relative in the end, isn't it? If I have unwittingly done Manwe's work on Middle-earth then I am getting no less than my due.

 

The breeze plays softly across my face as I stand on the balcony watching the vast expanse of water with little ships bobbing on the waves in the far distance. In reality they are huge trading galleons and cruising pleasure craft. None ever approach here and I suspect that to the ordinary eye we are not visible. My eyes shift to the tops of the trees, leaves gently rustling and swishing against the metal balcony rails. Maglor is down on the beach, wearing only a leather loin-cloth. He has his spear and is practising his aim by throwing it at a sea sponge he has positioned in the distance. According to him, he is practising so that he can go out to sea this afternoon and kill a big fish that we can barbecue in the evening.

 

In the meantime I put one of my famous black robes on and make my way downstairs. Manwë has called me and told me to be ready.

 

I knew it would happen one day but it was still a shock when it did. Manwë is standing in my office with the Lady Celebrìan. How brave she must feel standing next to my master as she spits in my face and slaps my cheek. "I hate you," she screams at me, and then turns to Manwë. "Why have you brought me here?"

 

"Sauron is the cause of your problems and now he will fix it," Manwë explains. "He is much changed and can help you manage your emotions and memories."

 

"They do not need managing and I will never accept help off the one whose orcs raped and tortured me, whilst he sat watching and laughing. You ask too much," she yells in her extreme anger.

 

Actually I do remember watching and laughing. I still do not feel guilt at it and think of it only as a pleasant memory. However, I have to help her because to do so will make life easier for all concerned. I feel like backhanding her face and smashing every bone. However, I am not the Lord of all evil on Middle-earth anymore and so I must play by the rules that Manwë has set out for me. I fear his punishment more than anything, as it is many times more subtle and terrible than anything Melkor could have dreamt up for me in his crude and clumsy attempts at retribution, even though they were just as effective. It still amazes me that the bitch Nienna is his wife and that none of the Valar realised the fact. They are not that clever, it seems, because even Maglor once remarked that she could well be his wife after one of her more irrational punishments of me. If he could unwittingly see this, how could they not?

 

Celebrìan slaps me again and kicks my shin. I do not move. She will wear herself out; her feeble attempts are an annoyance but cannot hurt me. In the end Manwë tires of her behaviour and orders her to stop. "Surely you cannot be on his side?" She is aghast at the realisation.

 

"I have told you before that Sauron is changed." Manwë holds her arms down and snarls in her ear that she had better stop her behaviour before he loses his temper. "You will submit," he says loudly in her ear as she struggles.

 

I touch her forehead and she howls a scream of angry animal terror before slumping forward. Manwë picks her up as if she weighs nothing and places her on the bed. "You have a way with the ladies," he jokes and I smile.

 

We both draw a chair up to the head end of the bed. Manwë likes me to talk about what I am doing and seems endlessly fascinated by the process. "I have found the event where she was attacked by orcs. I think that I should lessen the memory and make her wonder if it was a dream."

 

"Good idea," Manwë agrees.

 

I go into Celebrian's mind and find all her secrets. How interesting. She spent much time in Lothlorien because that is where her lover was. According to her memories, she tolerated Elrond but felt nothing for him. I tell this to Manwe who says that he already knew.

 

"The tragedy is that Elrond adored her," Manwë says softly.

 

"I do not see that changing when he comes to Valinor," I say to him, as I probe around in her mind for more useful information.

 

"He has had casual flings but he desperately hopes that Celebrìan has missed him and can find it in her heart to perhaps love him just a little?" Manwë smiles and I know exactly what he means.

 

I adore Maglor but if he did not love me equally then I would be crushed and resume my evil ways not caring about the consequences. I would delight in making him pay for not loving me, until he drew his last breath and then I would torture his fëa until I became so tired of my own existence that I sought release from it. My love would swiftly turn into hate. Perhaps that is the danger of loving too much. Elrond must have spent hundreds of years hoping and finding his hopes constantly dashed, therefore I will give him what he most desires.

 

"I am lessening the memories of the orcs so that it seems like a dream that she cannot quite remember," I say to Manwë. "I have removed her lover completely from her mind and filled it with a deep desire for her husband." My fingers move slightly as I catch another thought travelling through her brain and turn it around.

 

"Master?" I ask, even though the word is a bitter taste on my tongue. "Does the lady have a soul mate before I go any further?"

 

"She has Elrond, but that was decided and assigned after her rape because we thought that she might stay with him," Manwë answers.

 

"So be it," I reply. "The Lady Celebrìan now has a yearning surpassing all others for the safe arrival of her husband into these lands."

 

"Remove your face from her memory," Manwë orders. "I do not want her spreading the word to other elves that you will be treating them." He has a point. Most elves have never seen my face, not even the ones who were captive in my strongholds. However, Celebrìan has seen my face and so it makes sense to do as my master tells me.

 

I wake Celebrìan and she asks me who I am.

 

"He is my servant, dear Lady," Manwë says taking her by the arm. "It is most strange but you and I were having a cup of tea on the terrace and you felt faint in the heat. Are you all right now?"

 

"I feel so embarrassed," Celebrìan says, rolling her frog spawn eyes in a vain attempt to humour the Vala talking to her by seeming to be helpless. "It is most unlike me to react adversely to Anor's rays."

 

"It matters not," Manwë says most agreeably. "Happily my servant knew what to do."

 

Celebrìan thanks me and accepts Manwe's offer of a carriage ride back to her home in the next village. "It was lucky that he was here," I heard her say happily to Manwë, who chuckles because he knows the full story.

 

Yes indeed and you are the lucky one dear Lady. My smile is false as she waves goodbye and I wonder what it would be like, to have been the orc raping her. I am glad they hurt her. I only wish they could have killed the stupid heifer.

 

Maglor walks up to the terrace, excitedly shouting my name. Slung over his back is a dead swordfish. "Sauron, come and see this fish," he calls to me. "It's huge. It took two goes with the spear."

 

The elf whom I adore is standing in the doorway with a huge grin on his face. "Look," he says, his mouth set with a wide smile. "Isn't it a beauty?"

 

"It is massive," I tell him and walk out onto the terrace. The sun feels warm against my skin and I know that I am over dressed.

 

"Let us swim together," Maglor says as he pulls me down to the beach. "We can leave the fish until afterwards."

 

I run down to the sea with the one I love and wade into the water. We dive underneath and meet in the middle. It is moments like this that are precious to me. Maglor loves with the sureness and trust of an elfling. He is the one who saves me from my self, from my darker side; I have the freedom to be happy because he gives me a reason to. He makes everything all right.

 

He pulls me closer as the waves lap around our hips. "Having one of those introspective moments?" he asks.

 

I smile as he kisses me. He knows me so well.


	22. Fëanor and his sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron cures Feanor, and time passes on.

Over many years, I treated just about every elf who was plagued by their memories of my intervention in their otherwise happy lives. I did my best to cure them of the memories that plagued them, even though they were safe in Valinor and seemingly well beyond my influence. I am not altruistic at all and if I were the one deciding their fate they would be left to their own devices and suffer forever more. However, it is not my decision and I remain in bondage to my Lord Manwë, who likes me to call him Master at least once a day. It is a gilded kind of slavery, where I am treated very well; however, I doubt that Manwë will ever trust me enough to completely grant me my freedom. I refuse to rehabilitate. I see his point of view that it would be better for me to eschew all evil but I still find the darkness attractive. My base desires still scream for fulfilment, and there is nothing more that I would enjoy than subjugating the hearts and minds of all who live on this island with a regime of absolute and complete terror. I am also a pragmatist. I know that those days are gone forever and that to survive, I must adapt. Maglor is the carrot that keeps me sweet. If he were taken away from me the whole island would feel my wrath, regardless of the consequences. Who would have thought that the Lord of all Evil would be willingly subdued because of his love for an elf?

 

Most elves were easy to cure, but there were those who were a challenge. Some were so bad that I was tempted to pronounce them as incurable and let them continue in their wickedness. Take Fëanor as an example: he was filled with intense rage and anger, and was unwilling to let go of these emotions as they had shaped his whole life. He would have made a good accomplice and in many ways he was nearly as great as I was; although, he did not gratuitously torture elves for fun, which in my opinion was somewhat of a character flaw. The devastation his stupid oath caused was on a grand scale and he really should be proud of himself. However, that is beside the point. My dilemma was that if I took away his rage and anger, then essentially I would be taking away the essence of what made him who he was. In the end, I spent much time talking to him about the various battles and his quest to regain the silmarils. Fëanor also felt much guilt when discussing his son Amras, who burnt to death because he forgot he was on board, when he set alight the ship he was on.

 

Manwë arranged for Amras to visit, and then he thought that it would be a good idea of all his sons to stay in the house so that all could be cured at the same time. I insisted that Maglor be exempt from seeing his family or being treated, as he had been through enough. Manwë agreed and Maglor only saw his family on social occasions. He conveniently forgot to tell them that he was married to me, and when I challenged him about it he told me that no one would believe that he had willingly married Melkor's trusted lieutenant, plus it would cause a lot of arguments. I wonder if he is ashamed of being married to me or merely looking for a peaceful life. I am not sure but I know that I must put these thoughts into the back of my mind before they are able to grow and possibly harm our relationship.

 

The house was filled with elves arguing, blaming one another, yelling and fighting. In the end, I put them in shackles and chained them to the walls. Fëanor and his sons were unable to come to any agreement and so, one by one, I took them into the mind room and altered their memories. On the instruction of the despairing Manwë, I removed all memories of swearing the oath and of what the Silmarils were. There was much marrying up of fine details and the reasons for their actions, and sometimes I did not get it completely right. During this period I kept them separate so that they could not remind each other of events that others had 'forgot'.

 

Fëanor was treated last and he was my biggest challenge. After much hard work, in which his mind did its best to resist my influence, his memories were altered. I refocused his anger, because Manwë and I both agreed that his anger could never be changed as it was so much a part of him.

 

I made him angry about unchangeable things. It irritated him to distraction that Anor's glow was yellow and that the sky was blue. He vowed to change the colours if he could and asked his sons, in all seriousness if they would swear an oath to join him on his quest to change their colour. Manwë and I, who were spying on him through a secret porthole, nearly wet ourselves with laughter as Fëanor's sons asked him if he was mad.

 

Manwë and I achieved a good working relationship. Whilst still wishing all the elves to suffer unimaginable agony and harm, I knew that to survive I had to adapt. I love evil for its own sake still, and yet I also know how to love, which I could never do before. My adoration of Melkor was a hollow exercise and I still feel betrayed by him. But, because of his betrayal, I now have Maglor and I get to look upon the day, as well as the night. There is so much more for me now. Most prized of all in my existence, is the love of my soul mate; that is a gift that so many do not enjoy. In spite of his unwillingness to tell his family of his connection to me, I know that he adores me, and he has reassured me that telling them would do no good until all memory of my evil and connection to Melkor is erased from their minds, and the minds of those whom the family associate with.

 

I find that I actually like Manwë. He has never treated me with the harshness a slave could expect but it is quite clear that for my own protection that I will remain one. The other Valar will not have anything to do with me, except issue the occasional death threat for when my bondage finishes. I have never told Manwë, as I can deal with any threats upon my life on my own, but if they ever threaten Maglor then it will be different. Manwë has told me that he sees everything and he has dealt with those who wish me harm; maybe he has, I see no reason to disbelieve him.

 

*o*o*o*o*

 

In the end, I had treated every elf who needed it. Manwë allowed me to go into town to treat elves there and the general population had little recollection of who I was. My skin began to glow as it had before I was seduced by Melkor, and Manwë expressed his happiness that it did so. It was not that the elves did not know who I was, but that my role in their sufferings when on Middle-earth was not seen as important anymore.

 

My life was spent mostly in happy seclusion with Maglor. There were no elves left to cure and so our days were spent in happy enjoyment. I asked Manwë if I would always be allowed to have the existence I now cherished or whether it would end one day.

 

"I do not see it ending, so long as you do not regress back into evil," Manwë told me. "I know that you still love evil and that your mind is never free of it but you resist it with all your strength and that is good enough."

 

"How did you know?" I asked softly, mentally kicking myself as soon as I said the words for my stupidity. Of course Manwë would know; he knew everything.

 

"Because I fight evil too," he replied. "I do not give in as my brother did and every day is a temptation."

 

"I would never have guessed," I said and knew that he had revealed a part of himself that he normally kept hidden.

 

"I am The High King of everywhere. It is always easier for a ruler to court evil than to do what is right," he said. "It is better to be loved than hated."

 

"I quite liked being hated," I said lightly.

 

"Would you enjoy it if Maglor hated you again?" he asked.

 

I shook my head. Maglor's love is worth more than the conquest of Middle-earth ever was and I did not see that at the time.

 

"You sought to control the minds of all living things on Middle-earth," Manwë said. "Perhaps you really were looking for love?"

 

Who knows? I do not like to think that I was so basic and I know that I truly did not care if I was loved or hated. In fact I sneered at those who loved. Maybe, I sneered because I did not have love for myself and I was jealous. One can go around forever in circles, with thoughts like that.

 

"We all have needs," Manwë said softly. "Even the Lord of all the Valar has needs. I would be bereft of all existence without the love of Varda; within her radiates the light of Ilúvatar himself and she adores me." He paused. "I can tell you this because you are changing. Your fëa is at war with the evil within yourself and I have every hope for your rehabilitation."

 

Rehabilitation. Such an awful word. Yet it is heartening to know that the Lord of all that is good also has the same temptations that I do. Nienna must have had them too.

 

*o*o*o*o*

 

Over the next few thousand years my glow increased and I was able to integrate more with the local population. All knew that I was Manwe's slave and also that I intended them no harm. If an elf became psychologically injured, for example, they became unreasonably afraid of fire after burning themselves or had nightmares, then I was the one they called. It felt good to be so trusted and dare I say it, so liked. In the end, I was able to lead a nearly normal life. Maglor and I would spend many evenings in the taverns ringing the fairy-light decorated docks, which had not seen a ship moored at the side for what seemed an eternity. We would eat our food and drink our ale, whilst looking over the smooth surface of the sea towards where a land lay that we did not know anymore. Afterwards we would take our carriage back to the pink house overlooking the water and make love.

 

One day our happiness which was just this side of tedium was interrupted.

 

A new ship was built and sailed to Middle-earth once again, for the very last time.

 

"You will need to treat the elves who are returning," Manwë advised me. "Erestor is quite psychotic and will require all your talents, whereas Glorfindel will need your help afterwards, although he may not agree to submit.

 

"We could make him," I replied.

 

"We could but I tend to think that he will be all right whether he has your input or not." Manwë grinned and then looked serious. "Be careful of Erestor, he loves to kill and he will not think twice about trying to hurt you or Maglor. Do not let him have the freedom that you granted the other elves when they stayed at your house. I cannot underestimate how dangerous he is."

 

How interesting. I knew Erestor from old. I had observed his wickedness when on Middle-earth and admired him for it. However, is there any cure for a psychopath? I have never encountered a true one in all the elves I have treated and so this may be an eye opening experience for us all.

 

If Erestor hurts Maglor, I will kill him.


	23. Erestor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron meets Erestor at the dock in Valinor.

Because Erestor was so dangerous, part of the house was modified into a secure area, so that he could not escape. The old staff were rehired and trained in control and restraint methods, so that we did not cause any harm when subduing him. I gave them strict instructions that Erestor was so dangerous that they were never to be alone with him, no matter what the circumstances or even if it was an urgent situation. No less than four elves were to be present in the room if they needed to go into the secure area and preferably there should be more, if they were able. I wondered if that would be enough.

 

The ship arrived at the dockside, and as Glorfindel and Erestor disembarked, my carriage drew up to the edge of the rather considerable crowd. Even though I had not pulled up at the dockside in my carriage for thousands of years, the elves remembered to step back to form a walkway for me and the two elves I was going to meet.

 

I stepped out of the carriage as the elves were working their way down the line of old forgotten friends and family. Erestor seemed quite nervous and withdrawn; and for a moment I doubted Manwë's assessment of him. Glorfindel had to drag him by the arm and force him to interact. One can learn a lot by observing; however, it was time to make my presence known. I opened the door and stepped out of the carriage wearing my very best black robes for such an important and impressively evil elf; one that I knew would test my very limits because of his inherent and intractable love of evil. In many ways, he was as bad as me.

 

Erestor opened his mouth in horror, when I walked towards him. He knew who I was and feared me. How pleased I was that I still had the capacity to strike terror into at least one elf's heart. Erestor clung to Glorfindel, who pulled a gun out of his lover's pocket. I knew what a gun was because Manwë had told me about them, and added that it was a favourite killing method on Middle-earth in the time that the two elves had left behind. Of course, I was sanctimonious about the foolishness of bringing such a weapon to Valinor and it fell to pieces in Glorfindel's hand. I still have my old powers but I rarely use them; normally there is no need to.

 

Erestor was in a dead faint and Glorfindel could not resist when I took his lover away from him. Elrond told the blond twit that I was changed, that I was the best psychiatrist and that Erestor would be safe with me. Elrond knows who I am; no memory wiping for him as he did not need it. Not all elves needed my help, but I think it is fair to say that the majority did.

 

I took Erestor's unconscious form and climbed into the big, black covered carriage. About a minute later he awoke and panicked. He attacked me with a series of very fast moves that I had never seen before, which made him very hard to control. In the end I stopped being patient and froze his being with a wave of my hand.

 

"I am inclined to kill you because of your behaviour," I said and loomed over him. My hand changed to a claw and I stroked his face to terrify him, as I would have done had we met when I ruled Middle-earth, in all but name. "Now, you will not attack me again and I will cure you; even though I want to rip you to shreds and pull out your bowel and make you eat it."

 

He was terrified, and so he should be. What I had threatened was one of the lighter punishments that I had been known to inflict upon my prisoners in Barad-dûr. Erestor was well known to me by reputation because of his insane ways and the arbitrary punishments he inflicted upon the innocent. Even Melkor mentioned him as an elf worthy of our interest; however, he added that Erestor was so capriciously insane in his actions, that he could see him trying to poison both of us. We had a hearty chuckle at that one, even though it was true.

 

We made the rest of the journey in peace; mainly because I had gagged Erestor with his belt and secured his wrists and ankles to the restraining bars designed for recalcitrant elves who had to be forcibly taken to the house. He still tried to talk even though the leather was between his teeth.

 

"Do shut up," I said to him as though I was bored.

 

This enraged him and he did it all the more. Obviously Erestor is an elf who is used to getting his own way, one-hundred percent of the time. His eyes glared angrily at me.

 

"Face it, sweetie," I said to him. "I am in charge and you are not. So button your lip and shut up."

 

As if to provoke me, he kept making stupid noises all the way to the house. It was most annoying and I dearly wanted to hurt him.

 

Maglor met us at the gate and opened the door to the coach. "Hello," he grinned and reached up to kiss me in front of the astonished Erestor.

 

I released the mad elf from his ties and gag, and led him from the carriage. "What happened to your face?" Maglor asked.

 

"He did it," I said, gesturing with my thumb to Erestor.

 

Erestor smirked at Maglor when he demanded to know why he clawed my face, and then he threatened to claw his face as well. I did not expect my husband to punch Erestor hard in the face, but he did, and the newly arrived elf was flat out on the ground.

 

"Let's get him to his rooms," I said and kissed Maglor on the lips. I slung the unconscious elf over my shoulder and off we went.

 

The staff changed Erestor into a one piece overall, which he could not remove. I would change it every day, or when needed, simply by waving my hand and using my powers. This was advised by Manwë who thought that Erestor might be a suicide risk. For the same reason, there were no blankets or sheets on the bed, the chairs and table were secured to the floor and if he wanted a drink he had to use the water fountain pouring into a small bowl set into the wall. In time, when he was more amenable and considered less of a risk to himself, Erestor could have the things that we take for granted.

 

"We will leave him there for the night," I told the staff. We departed, locking the door behind us.

 

The staff had a rota where they observed Erestor for two hours on and two hours off. He could be seen easily through spy holes set into every wall of the rooms that were his. They would do this for eight hours and then the next shift would take over. In the meantime, everything that Erestor did or said, would be recorded to be assessed when planning what I should do with him.

 

"Let me bathe those cuts on your face," Maglor said and took my hand. I still had the memory of him punching Erestor in the face. Violence electrifies me, and so I wanted to get Maglor into bed most urgently. However, I bided my time; he likes to care for me and that is fine with me.

 

We started off with Maglor wiping the congealed blood away from the scratches and then kissing them better. To indulge him I made my skin heal as he kissed it. I do things like that because I love him. Then we ended up in bed, which is exactly where I wanted to be. My passion for my only one is always on a very short leash and it never takes much.

 

Whilst Maglor is able to defend himself, he has a natural sense of decency which means that he will stop short of really hurting Erestor if he is attacked by him. That might not be a good thing and so I will have to watch out for him; he is too precious to lose and I will not have him hurt. I will kill Erestor before that happens.

 

Valar! How impressed and turned on I was, when I saw the force of Maglor's punch. It has increased my adoration no end and I think that we will be spending a lot more time entwined in each others bodies.

 

At least until the vision of my husband being violent ceases to excite me.

 

Which will never happen.


	24. The Consequences of Underestimating the Enemy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor attacks and seriously hurts his guards.

"My Lord," Telemnar, one of the staff said to me. "Erestor has hurt two, possibly three, members of staff."

 

I was having a relaxing early evening read, of a book entitled, 'The Misery of the Elves: Fëanor and Melkor's Legacy Combined," a rather amusing study, which caused me to chuckle several times. I positively laughed out loud when the author described the privations of the elves who crossed the Helcaraxë. I reread that part twice and it did not diminish in comedic value. I am wondering if I should ever give this book back to Elrond. I wonder if all the books in his library are this amusing.

 

"Did four of you go into the room as I ordered?"

 

"Yes, My Lord. Erestor sprang for the two elves in front of us. He hooked his thumbs into Súrion's eye sockets and kicked Nénharma's ribs so badly that he is coughing up blood. Lissësúl and I jumped on him and I am afraid that we have injured him somewhat, but he would not let go of Súrion."

 

"How badly is he injured?" I asked; I noticed that Telemnar was shaking slightly. I like to think that he was nervous in my presence, because normally he is; however I suspect that Erestor fighting back had badly shaken him. It never does to become complacent.

 

"We may have broken his arm, and a couple of his ribs, and given him a black eye," Telemnar said nervously.

 

"Was there any other way of restraining him?"

 

"No, My Lord." Telemnar seemed even more nervous; however, I am used to my staff shaking when they give me bad news.

 

Time to show him what an understanding employer I am; not that Manwë would allow me to get away with anything less. "I would say that Erestor deserved it. I do not agree that a patient here should ever be hurt, but sometimes it is unavoidable." I said that just in case Telemnar thought that he could get away with it again. I did not mean a word of it though; torture is my domain, not theirs.

 

"Thank you, My Lord," Telemnar said, looking relieved. Like all my staff he remembered me of old but had not needed any help adjusting to life in Valinor. None of them had ever been guests of mine on Middle-earth and they knew me by reputation only. He was right to fear me, as they all were, and yet I had never harmed them, not even once. Such is the nature of presence, and I have it.

 

"Let us go and see Súrion first," I said as I rose from my chair.

 

I put the book in my pocket because I did not want Maglor reading it and asking me deep fëa searching questions, when we could be indulging our bodies instead. My only one does tend to consider himself somewhat of a constructive critic when reviewing books on elven history.

 

We walked along to the clinic wing. Súrion lay on a bed holding his hands up to his face and howling for all he was worth. I am never happier than when I am seeing an elf in agony; however, now was not the time to indulge myself.

 

"Let me see your face," I said to Súrion who yelled that it hurt too much to take his hands away. "You two," I motioned to the healer and Telemnar. "Take his hands."

 

Súrion resisted; but his hands were removed from his face and held down by his side. Both his eyes were shut, crusted with dried blood in places and with streams of fresh blood leaking from the corners; they were also gratifyingly swollen. I looked at them and thought that Maglor would be having a particularly enjoyable time in bed with me tonight, as I found the sight most invigorating. I would hold onto the memory of Súrion's face as I let Maglor pound into me; something he would enjoy as he doesn't get to do it very often and because I feel like showing him how much I adore him.

 

I waved my hand over Súrion's mutilated eyes and they healed. Elrond is convinced that he is the best healer in Valinor but my skills leave him looking like an anxious elfling who cannot find the starting line in an egg and spoon race. He is one of the elves that Manwë makes me socialise with; according to him, it is a part of my rehabilitation. The Lord of Airs hopes that one day it will be so complete, that he can cease having me as his slave and free me instead. He has admitted that he is not hopeful though. Still, I cannot complain; life is a million times better under him than it was with Nienna. Next, I felt into Súrion's mind and removed the severity of what Erestor had done and the associated feelings.

 

The two elves looked at me in admiration. They watched as Súrion felt his eyes and then smiled. "I can see," he said and grinned. I smiled back so that he thought that I was a nice Maia. "Thank you, My Lord," he wittered. "You have healed me. You truly are a great person."

 

"You may have tomorrow off, to recover from any psychological injuries you might have." I thought that a day would be enough, especially as I knew he had none because they were healed too.

 

"Thank you, My Lord, but I seem to feel no ill effect," he said truthfully; however, I must give the impression that I care about the well being of my staff, so I shook my head.

 

"I insist," I said, and walked away to where Nénharma sat. He was still coughing up blood and his breathing made a loud rasping noise; music to my ears. I healed him in much the same way as I did Súrion and gave him the day off also.

 

"My Lord, I feel a bit redundant," the healer said. "You are a much better healer than I will ever be and so I wonder what my function is here."

 

"You are here to deal with the non-serious afflictions," I told him. "Besides, I am not always here and sometimes things happen in my absence. You are probably as good a healer as Elrond." I added the last bit because I felt particularly mischievous. It was not true at all.

 

"Thank you, My Lord," the healer said and smiled at me. These elves are so easy.

 

"Where is Lissësúl?" I asked Súrion.

 

"He is watching Erestor's door, My Lord," he replied.

 

"Come with me," I said to him as I walked out of the door.

 

Súrion and I went to Erestor's room. We stood outside and Lissësúl gave me a full report. "Are you injured?" I asked.

 

"I will be fine," he said. "Erestor uses some strange moves when he is fighting though. We were taken by surprise. He flew through the air and aimed a series of kicks at my face before I could move away."

 

Lissësúl's face was swollen and I suspected that he had some broken bones as it hurt him to talk. I waved my hand and he was healed. "You can have tomorrow off," I said to him. "I am impressed that in spite of your injuries you decided to stay on guard, all by yourself."

 

"My Lord, I would not like to think of what he could do to the rest of the household." Lissësúl said to me. "I know the door is locked but I would not put anything past him. He seems unnaturally gifted in self-preservation."

 

I am extremely pleased with Lissësúl. If Erestor had crept up on Maglor, he could have killed him. Maglor is one of the finest warriors I have come across but even he would be at a loss with Erestor's new style of fighting. I must ask Manwë about it and see what he makes of it.

 

I unlocked the door and told the two elves not to enter the room with me. I expected Erestor to try and attack me and so I was on my guard. Rather predictably, as soon as I opened the door, his feet were at the level of my face ready to kick. I was too quick for him and waved my hand. He froze and crashed to the floor with a heavy thud. His foot had been an eyelash width away from my face.

 

A further wave of my hand saw Erestor floating over to his bed. He was about five foot above it when I let him drop onto it. He let out a squeak, which is about all he was capable of doing, as he was to all intents, quite paralysed. It was a yelp of pain and I found it most satisfying.

 

I loomed over him; he looked angry and scared. "Erestor," I said and gave him the smile that I reserved for all of my victims on Middle-earth, to let them know when all hope is lost. "You have seriously injured three of my staff; therefore you will be punished. Tomorrow you will be stripped and chained to a pole on the beach. All the staff will be there to see your punishment and I am sure they will feel vindicated when I whip you to within an inch of your life. That will happen tomorrow, so that you can spend all night in dread anticipation of what is to come."

 

I smiled and Erestor tried to move, but he could not. "You will stay like that until tomorrow," I smirked and then went out of the door.


	25. The Source of Erestor’s Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron finds out what caused Erestor to be born evil.

In my garden room, stood Manwë. "What is your reasoning behind whipping, Erestor?" he asked as he helped himself to an apple out of the fruit basket.

 

"For two reasons," I replied, eyeing the stolen fruit as he bit in to it. "Firstly, he will realise that he has to pay for his negative actions; he cannot get away with the things he did on Middle-earth now that he is in Valinor. Secondly, my staff need to see justice done."

 

Manwë picked a rose from the vase and smelt it; I hoped he would put it back and not steal that too. "When have you ever cared about justice?" he smirked.

 

"Master, I do not care about it at all, you know that; however, my staff care very much that justice is carried out and seen to be appropriate."

 

"Good answer," Manwë said. "It shows that you are thinking about the feelings of others. Although, knowing you, you will probably deny it."

 

We understood one another. I smiled and he asked about the details of the whipping.

 

"He is to be fastened to one of the breakwater posts on the beach and whipped with the staff looking on," I said. "I think it will establish in his mind that there are consequences for bad behaviour. Once he calms down we can try to cure him."

 

"Erestor is infested with evil," Manwë said as he placed the core of the apple on the highly polished wooden side-table.

 

"I have no idea how an elf could go so exceedingly against the boundaries of his own race." I really did have not have a clue as to why Erestor was so bad and was sorely tempted to tell Manwë to put the core in the waste litter bin near the fire. He does these things to lure me into falling from grace but I am too perceptive for him.

 

A servant arrived with a tray of tea and told me that Maglor had arrived back from the town with some books for me and had gone to our bedroom for a nap as he was tired. My poor Maglor was unable to sleep last night, as the weather was boiling outside, even though it was night time and we had the breeze off the sea through the open doors that lead onto the balcony. I held him all night, which I always feel the need to do, thus causing my only one to feel even hotter. I was thoughtless. I never get too hot or too cold and it did not occur to me that he would not be the same; I should have known better. Tonight I will make the room several degrees cooler and then we can sleep in each others arms comfortably. Strangely enough, that is the only time when I truly feel safe; most odd, when considering that I am the, 'Supreme Dark Lord of Everywhere'. Manwë often calls me as such and laughs about it; such puerile wit. He says, quite truthfully, that there is no one as evil and black-hearted as me in Valinor, and so I must be the Lord of it. It is good to know that my name still means something.

 

Manwë waved his hand and the teapot poured strawberry tea into our cups. It is a trick that I can do as well, although if I did it, I would be accused of showing off; Manwë makes it look as though tea should only ever be poured that way. "Thank you," I said. I might be evil, but I absolutely insist on politeness and etiquette in my home, plus the proper disposal of eaten fruit remains.

 

"Erestor's problems started when he was in the womb. His nana was exceptionally beautiful and caught the eye of Melkor." Manwë stopped to take a sip of tea.

 

"How was that, Master, when she lived in Gondolin?" I tried not to sound disbelieving.

 

"Melkor always knew where Gondolin was. Maeglin did not really betray the position; Melkor just needed someone for the elves to focus their blame upon, and as Maeglin was half mad anyway, it was easy." Manwë took another sip of his tea and sniffed the stolen rose. "It suited Melkor's amusement, and his vanity, for elves to be hiding from him and think that they were safe. His fëa drifted over the land and sought all the places where it would be easy to invade. One day, he saw Erestor's nana and he desired her. She was already pregnant and so he appeared as her husband and made love to her. His seed entered the unborn Erestor's brain and corrupted it. That is how he became unlike any other of his race. Of course, after having her once, Melkor did not desire her again and he left her alone."

 

"Melkor said Erestor was so mad and dangerous that he was worthy of our attention, but so unpredictable that he would surely try to harm us. We thought that incredibly funny." I put my empty cup down. "Did he know that Erestor was the result of his corruption?"

 

"I expect not," Manwë replied. "Otherwise he might have taken more of an interest in him."

 

"Well, thank the Valar he did not," I said with a smile, not that I meant it, of course.

 

"We had nothing to do with it." Manwë shrugged. "We have a policy of non-intervention, as much as we are able, which is how you were allowed to cause such mischief."

 

It was a statement designed to lead to a reaction. Because of Nienna and her severe punishments, I knew better than that. "So it is not Erestor's fault?"

 

"Erestor, in spite of his corruption, still knows the difference between good and bad and what society deems as acceptable behaviour. He has an overriding love of evil; however, he does have the capacity and reasoning to stop. He enjoys causing harm and misusing power. I would venture that the enjoyment is sexual for him, considering how he tortured his lover, Glorfindel, who was torn between love and terror when he lived with him. Until his brain is healed he will see nothing wrong in what he does, although he knows it is viewed by others as unacceptable." I tried not to look as Manwë ate a rose petal; he was trying to aggravate me and enjoying himself as he did so. He knows that I cannot abide theft or provocation, unless I am the one doing it.

 

I could identify with Erestor so well, but could never entertain letting him stay as he was, because of his capricious nature, and also my master would never allow it. My fear of being punished by Manwë far exceeds my interest in seeking a compatriot in wickedness. "He is using a system of fighting that we have never seen before. He managed to hurt three of my staff, who are all well-seasoned warriors and he delivered the most vicious injuries." I looked at Manwë for a possible explanation; part of me hoped that he had none, so that I could privately sneer at his lack of knowledge.

 

"I will have to look into this," Manwë said and looked troubled. "I am assuming that no permanent damage was done?"

 

"I healed them. One had his eyes nearly gouged out and the other had several broken ribs and a ruptured lung. The other had facial bruising and I suspect a broken jaw. How is one elf able to wreak such devastation, I wonder."

 

"He is stronger and more dangerous than we thought. His accommodation is secure, but from now on we will have to make sure that no one is harmed. You might have to drug his food or freeze his movement when you open the door. I leave it up to you." Manwë poured another cup of strawberry tea and drunk it in one go. "I will be coming to witness Erestor's punishment tomorrow. I doubt that it will have any effect on his behaviour, but the psychological effect it will have on the staff cannot be underestimated." I believe I had already pointed out most of this previously. "I also want to make sure that you do not enjoy it so much that you get carried away."

 

Manwë obviously does not know me as well as he thinks he does. In the past I have always known exactly when to stop and had the self control to do so. It is the precision of torture and the measure of reaction that I find so exciting. If I was carried away, I would fail to capture that point where hope of release turns into despair; I would not miss it for the world. That is the point where power meets with submission and is most intoxicating to the fëa of the one who weighs both states in his hand.

 

Manwë stood up and offered his hand. I had to kiss it as I am his slave. How that rankles within me. Still at least it isn't Nienna's fat little paw. I try to show no emotion as I do it, but he knows; he never misses anything. Life could be a lot worse and he has given me more than I ever expected to have; I tell myself that, whenever I have to abase myself to him, so that I do not feel so irritated about doing it.

 

After Manwë had done his usual disappearing into the ether act, I went into the garden and cut a replacement rose and put it in the vase with the others, after that I called a servant and ordered him to put the apple core in the waste and to polish the table. Some might think this a tad pedantic but standards have to be maintained. I insisted on absolute cleanliness in all my strongholds; it was enough having the smell of the orcs and uruk-hai wafting about, without the place looking a mess as well.

 

My Maglor was asleep, and there is nothing more that I love than to look upon his sleeping face. I thank the fate that shone in my existence in that moment and made me so blessed that I should capture the heart of the most beautiful elf who ever lived. How handsome he looked in repose. I gently kissed his soft lips and lay down beside him. "I love you," I said softly, not meaning to wake him and snuggled up to his warmth. My arms wrapped around his form and I shut my eyes. He smelt of flowers, as all the truly good do. We are so unalike and yet we love with an overriding passion. I love him so much that I know I would die if anything happened to him. When I see him in the morning, my heart explodes with happiness that I have one so lovely to call my own. He is why I kiss Manwë's hand and do all his bidding. My Maglor is too precious to lose; he is the light in my life and I am nothing without him. I never thought that I would be capable of love such as this. What I had with Melkor was a distortion; it was not love, but submissive weakness masquerading as such. I detest Melkor for denying me the chance to know what true love was like when I was his lover. He corrupted me and I fell for what I thought was his adoration of me. I am also to blame because I was willing and vain; there is a part of me that still detests myself for eagerly falling prey to his charms and wiles.

 

How different I am to the Maia who arrogantly demanded that he be sent through the Door of Night. I am not that person now. In all, I have been very lucky since being rescued from the void. I am a pragmatic person and know that I have it as good as it will ever get, at least for a very long time. With Maglor by my side it is like walking on air, and not the precipitously stony path that I once willingly trod. My life is much better now and I would change nothing.

 

There are worse things than kissing a Vala's hand.


	26. Whipping Erestor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor is punished for attacking the elves.

I entered Erestor's rooms and partially removed the enchantment that kept him immobile. "Stand," I ordered, watching as he wearily dragged himself off the bed. I was surprised that he complied so readily. "Your weakness will persist until after your punishment. I will not have you attacking my staff."

 

"Fuck you, Sauron," he spat at me. "Do your worst. I am not scared of you."

 

"Then you are not very wise, are you?" I chuckled evilly, and was gratified that he tried not to shake. The next hour would be one of extreme enjoyment.

 

The elves handcuffed Erestor, before walking him out to the beach, towards an upright post, just the right height and sturdiness for securing a prisoner who was about to be whipped. His nervousness increased the nearer he approached, although his face remained impassive. When he saw the audience he glared at them as if betrayed. The elves turned him around and faced him against the post, his back towards the audience. Erestor seemed to be a classic case of being able to give pain but not liking it done to him.

 

His arms were pulled above his head and fastened by a locking chain to a metal ring embedded in the top of the post. An iron bar was fixed to the base of the post. Cuffs at each end were fastened to his ankles, thus spreading his legs about a foot apart. He was unable to move, so tight were his restraints. I waved my hand and the all in one jumpsuit, that was impossible for him to remove, disappeared; he was totally naked. The thick braid of hair, hanging down his back to his waist, was moved over his shoulder so it hung down his front.

 

Manwë appeared and stood in front of Erestor. "You understand why we are doing this?"

 

Erestor did his best to turn his head and look away. Manwë walked over to me. "Master," I said. "Would you prefer to be the one who delivers punishment?" I was hoping that he would refuse, but it looked good that I would forego this particular piece of enjoyment.

 

"I think not," Manwë replied. "Proceed."

 

Maglor read out the list of crimes that Erestor had committed the previous day upon the elves watching over him and how many lashes he would receive for each one. My sweet one was to keep count, so that Manwë could not accuse me of overdoing it.

 

"One." The leather whip lashed across Erestor's shoulders, leaving a thin line of red. He gasped as his body shot rigid in a rictus of agony before relaxing again.

 

"Two."

 

"Three..." So it went on. In the end, Erestor cried out in anguish at the sudden shocks of pain. About halfway into his punishment he slumped down and showed no response to the next lash.

 

"He has fainted." A thin line of yellow trickled down his leg onto the sand. "We should finish now, even though his sentence has not been fully carried out."

 

"Wake him up and continue," Manwë said, looking flushed. "It is what he would have done to Glorfindel. It is not only your staff who need justice." He then looked at Erestor and remarked that he thought he would have been made of stronger stuff.

 

"Nothing I do here to Erestor will give Glorfindel the justice he needs," I said softly to him, trying not to be overheard lest any present think I was showing compassion. In all practicality, overdoing a punishment beyond what an elf can take teaches them nothing but their own limits. The ideal punishment stops or takes a break before the elf can slip into the refuge of unconsciousness, or proceeds at such a slow pace that it is impossible to remain anything but alert. I know this; I am a master at it. However, it seems that Manwë is not. How useful that I have found this out. It seems he is also unaware that the application of punishment does not always deliver justice.

 

"Do as I say," Manwë ordered.

 

A bucket of sea water was thrown over Erestor. When he came to, the whipping continued. On the last lash he passed out again. I put the whip down and waved my hand. The cuffs on his hands and feet disintegrated and he fell to the sand. The whole of his back, his buttocks, and his thighs, ran with blood where the whip had streaked across them. In some places the skin had completely fell away. I ordered two elves to take him back to his rooms. He stirred, but was in no position to struggle, hanging limply between them.

 

"You did well," Manwë said, stating the obvious.

 

"Thank you, Master."

 

"I thought you might become carried away and sneak in an extra strike."

 

"Maglor count the strikes. I like to be precise when giving punishment." I smiled. "The correct application is an art form."

 

"How interesting." Manwë seemed suddenly bored. "Well, I am off now. Thank you for the diversion. I will see you in two days time. Hopefully Erestor will be much better by then?"

 

"I would imagine so." Oh Manwë, you have revealed yourself. You love watching and giving punishment as much as I do, which is why you would not whip Erestor in case you gave yourself away. We are not that different, you and I.

 

Maglor took my arm. "Let us go inside and you can tell me what sudden illumination has made you so happy." So perceptive is the one I love; there is nothing he misses about me.

 

Later that day, I went to observe Erestor in his rooms. The four guard elves were peeping through the spy holes and making quarter-hourly notes accordingly. "Has he moved?" Te enchantment restricting his energy had been removed by myself shortly after he had arrived back in his bedroom.

 

"My Lord, he has stayed face down on the bed since we brought him back," Lissësúl turned his attention back to the spy hole.

 

I unlocked the door and walked in. Erestor lay still, his eyes open. "How are you feeling?" I asked. Not that I cared if he answered; I could see with my own eyes how he must feel.

 

He said nothing.

 

"I think that I will bring Glorfindel here to look at your injuries. He will feel vindicated for all the times you did far worse to him." I looked at the crusted blood and ran my finger through a deep slash that was still oozing, noting with some satisfaction that my victim winced. I licked my finger, savouring the salty metal tang. For a fleeting moment I wondered what his flesh must taste like.

 

"Glorfindel would kill you if he saw me in this state," Erestor hissed.

 

"I am a Maia. It would be extremely difficult for Glorfindel to do anything to me. Glorfindel does love you, that is true; however, part of him hates you and needs justice. There are two parts at war within your lover, and until he unites them he will not be a whole elf. At one point I will be treating him too."

 

"Glorfindel will never need you." Erestor seemed so sure.

 

I took hold of his hair and held his face close. "He will need me because I will be the one to show him how to unite his fractured fëa; the fëa that you tried your utmost to destroy."

 

"I love Glorfindel and he loves me. We can work through our problems ourselves. What can the once mighty, bumbling fool, Sauron do?" Erestor sneered. "You do not even know what love is."

 

"You cannot bait me. Love measured by your standards does not exist in my life. However, love measured by the standards of Eru himself, and all the races of Middle-earth and Valinor, does. One day, it might exist in yours too. Won't that be nice for Glorfindel, not to have to feel terror with every sweet kiss from your poisonous lips?"

 

I left the room at that point, knowing that I had given Erestor much to think about.

 


	27. Musings on Love and Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron sees how Erestor changed when Melkor raped his mother.

Erestor would not talk to me about his past, even though I tried everything I could to make him do so. I also had to use a weakening enchantment on him many times during the next few weeks so that he would not attack my staff. I tired of talking to him and hearing only my own voice. Where a lesser elf might have been sarcastic or argued, Erestor merely looked at the ceiling, as though he were putting himself into a trance and shutting me out. One day, I had enough and ordered the elves to take him to the mind reading room.

 

 

 

“You cannot make me go,” Erestor calmly said to me. “I have rights, even here.”

 

 

 

“You have no rights,” I replied. “The only thing I am not allowed to do is kill you.”

 

 

 

“I would have thought the elves in Valinor would have moved on with regard to personal rights,” Erestor sneered. “How backward they are.”

 

 

 

“Yet you are the one in captivity and the elves outside are not.” I smiled at my adversary. “It would seem that you are the backward one.”

 

 

 

The elves marched Erestor to the mind reading room; he was too weak to struggle. That did not discourage him from shouting and yelling to call attention to his plight. No one came, not that anyone would have done as all knew what he had done to the three staff. Erestor had no friends here and because of his actions he was insuring himself against ever having any.

 

 

 

“Strap him down to the bed,” I ordered the four elves who were busy trying to make Erestor lie down. Even though he was weak he still fought all he could. He reminded me of the elves in my strongholds who thought that if they concentrated on being free, then one day they would surely achieve it. How amusing I found their struggles, and how cheated I felt if an elf gave up hope early in their captivity and died. I considered that as my guests they should have at least played the game.

 

 

 

Erestor still called out and struggled after being secured to the bed, his wrists and ankles held with strong bindings. I told him that I was going to read his mind and laughed as he swore at me and told me exactly where I could go and stick my head.

 

 

 

I sat behind him, holding his head between my hands. He yelled at me to let go of his head, so I gagged him; his incessant demands and insults were interrupting my concentration. I wanted to look at the period before he was born, when his foetus was infected by Melkor. I needed to know the nature of the damage his seed had caused so that I could attempt a cure.

 

 

 

The tiny foetus floated in the warmth, secure and safe until the seed invaded his brain. His body contorted, twisting in agony, until the last of it had bored through his skull, and then he went still. The soft fuzz of blonde hair turned to a black that was darker than that of the most hidden places in the dead of the night. The blue eyes changed to a dark blue-black and the pink lips change to a deep blood red. I wondered if Melkor had known that Erestor’s nana was pregnant, and if he knew what his seed would do to her unborn baby. I suspect he did.

 

 

 

I have never killed a baby, although I admit that I ended the life of a child because I hoped to elicit a reaction from Maglor. He surprised me; he told me to kill the child as he would suffer in my castle anyway and he would be better off dead. I did it, not believing Maglor meant it. He said it was for the best because the child’s fëa was free of me now and would go to the place where all human fëa go. “He is no longer yours, and he will cry for his dead mother no more,” Maglor spat, with hate burning in his eyes. “You have lost, Sauron, because this is the only reaction you will ever get from me.” He was as good as his word, or so he thought. I heard him crying that night and praying to the Valar for the fëa of the small boy. I remember laughing and feeling that the day had not been such a waste after all. The only guilt I have ever felt in my long existence is how I treated him before our new life together. I used to laugh at him feeling guilt for all those he had killed, but I understand now.

 

 

 

Why kill a baby or a small child when it will eagerly turn to the ways of darkness instead? They are willing converts because they know no better. Indeed, they make excellent spies because they look so innocent. It also makes no sense to hurt an unborn; they do not know who has done it to them, the reason why, or that they are damaged. The most satisfying moment for me was when the victim faced me and knew they were captive in my stronghold. Their realisation that I was the one torturing them, and who would eventually kill them, and that there was no hope of escape unless I allowed it, was intoxicating. Sometimes I did allow people to escape, so that tales of my unbelievable cruelty could spread and the fear would increase exponentially. Usually, I allowed a child to escape, or even deposited them outside a village to make sure they got there before an animal could eat them, so that my message would be delivered. Adults are always willing to believe the most horrific things from a young mouth because they think that they could never lie. They tend not to believe an adult so readily.

 

 

 

I cannot abide wasted opportunities. To kill randomly and without reason, because one can, is surely a senseless thing to do and the waste of an opportunity for an alternative and more productive use. Far better to see if the captive can be utilised and kill them only if they are of no use. Men would die very quickly anyway and my orcs needed to eat, but elves were different, they were hardier, so I set them to work until they dropped from exhaustion. I did not need any hired help to do the cleaning and make the meals, or to be sex slaves to the Orcs and Uruk-hai; I had an endless supply of elves for that. Lest anyone think that I have any compassion for their plight because I did not kill them, let me add that I enjoyed torturing them very much indeed; it is only the act of senseless killing I disagree with. Killing can only be validated if it is for a reason, and then it is all right.

 

 

 

If one is to control the minds and, therefore, the hearts of the people, there are two ways to achieve it. They can either love or they can hate, because both are overruling emotions. Who would not do anything for love? I freely admit that now I know the bliss of the state of love, I would do anything to please the one I call my own. But I am not talking about that. I am talking about the love one has for his fellow being, whether it be elf or man, or animal. I also freely admit that I still do not have any altruistic feelings towards the elves or any goodwill. The whole lot could die for all I care, so long as that number does not include Maglor, whom I adore.

 

 

 

Who would do anything for hate? Absolutely no one, unless terror of an even greater consequence grips their heart. This is how I secured obedience and submission. I have no time for those who would pursue the love of their fellow being, because that is not the way to ultimate control. People only give up their freedom because they have been tricked into it or because it is taken forcibly from them. I have tried both methods and each have their merits, although the realisation when prisoners realised they have been deceived is too priceless and satisfying for words.

 

 

 

I have digressed massively; my life is much changed now and I am not allowed to hurt any elf, let alone kill them. These idle musings do me no good, so I will put them to the back of my mind and start sorting what lies in Erestor’s brain. The seed destroyed any morality that Erestor might have had. This is not to suggest that he did not know the difference between right and wrong, or between good and bad, and what the levels of acceptability are. He was amoral, nothing was limited, but he was able to fear societal reaction and know what constituted a crime and what did not. I had suspected that he was a psychopath, but he is not. He is completely normal, except that he has no boundaries, even though he accepts that others in society do and will punish him if he goes too far. I thought that he might have no conscience and might not suffer guilt; however that part of his brain was not attacked. Somehow he has sublimated that area because the excesses of amorality cannot survive with an effective conscience holding it back. How interesting, and I am wondering what can be done. It is beyond my skill; for the first time I am at a loss of what to do.

 

 

 

“Master,” I say and he appears. I wonder if he has been here all the time. “Melkor's seed wiped out the morality part of Erestor’s brain. I am at a loss. I do not know what to do.”

 

 

 

Manwë looked at Erestor, “Sleep,” he said, so he did. He sat in my chair and felt the sides of Erestor’s head and concentrated. “He has no morality, but he does know the meaning of fear and revenge; he has even experienced it. You will have to see his conscience can be released, as that might be the key to enabling him to voluntarily accept limits to his behaviour.”

 

 

 

“What if I fail?”

 

 

 

“Then there will be nothing we can do,” Manwë replied. “You will remain my slave forever, because I will consider that you did not try hard enough, and Erestor will be sent through the Door of Night.”

 

 

 

“Can an elf survive in The Void?”

 

 

 

“Why do you care?” Manwë gave me a small, wry smile.

 

 

 

Yes, he is right; why do I care, and yet I know that an end to my bondage might be in sight. Erestor you will recover even if it kills me! (It is most fortunate that is only a saying. I quite like living really.)


	28. The Predictability of Erestor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron is annoyed with Erestor.

If it were not for Maglor's soothing presence, I think that I would have killed Erestor. He spat and snarled at me, attacked my staff, threatened to kill Maglor and supplied me with a variety of gory and gleeful descriptions of how he would accomplish the nefarious deed; he also resisted all attempts to try and cure him.

 

"Even when I am looking into his mind and he is unconscious, he is able to resist me," I said to Maglor. "I have to cure him because we will gain our freedom from it."

 

"I wish you could kill him," Maglor said as he drew closer to me and lazily took hold of my rapidly growing arousal. "He is an irritating little bastard."

 

"All elves are apart from you," I teased, knowing I would get a reaction.

 

Maglor smacked my bum hard and I laughed. "I am riding you this time," he said and pushed me on my front. "It's going to be rough and hard and you will suffer."

 

"Yes!" I said and laughed. "Make it so rough I cannot walk tomorrow. If you can that is."

 

I was subject to a few minutes of Maglor being rough with me before we settled down into our normal state of wanting to please. I love it when Maglor punishes me for saying bad things about the elves; it makes me say it all the more. In truth I have no particular outrageous hatred for the elves nor do I feel any love for them; however, it would be true to state that if all the elves outside my domain died in the night, I would be very happy; in fact I would probably do a little dance as well.

 

I find that I still cannot forgive the elves for resisting my rule and fighting my domination of Middle-earth. How dare they; do they not realise they were born to be enslaved? I told myself that I was conquering Middle-earth for Melkor. One day I would free him from the void and we would rule together after my domination was complete. Deep down I knew that he would take it all away from me, if he did come back, and maybe that is why I was unsuccessful. Maybe I am the cause of my own failure and was always doomed to lose.

 

Enough of this self reflection; it gets me nowhere. I have to accept my life now and the position I hold in it. I am married to the most beautiful ellon in Valinor, whose beauty rivals that of a Valar. I would say Maia, as I am one and exquisitely gorgeous to look upon, but Gandalf and Saruman were also Maiar and a pig's arse is wondrously beautiful when compared to their ugly faces. There are no ugly Valar, even Melkor is beautiful, and so I can freely compare my only one, to one of them. I also have a huge pink house, which is an elf type colour and not typical of a Dark Lord at all, but it works so well surrounded by tall, sinister looking, evergreen trees. My bedroom has a large wrought iron balcony which overlooks the sea in our sheltered bay. I have servants who obey my every command and a band of very loyal staff in the clinic part. I can also go into the town and be respected and accepted by the elves there and we have enough resources to live very comfortably indeed. All I am lacking is my freedom, but I wonder how much would change if I did have it. I like where I live and my life at the moment. I only desire that I should not have to treat anymore elves or call Manwë, Master, how that rankles me. If I did not then I could devote all of my time to being with the one I love the most. I say the one I love the most but it is not completely true. I do not love anyone other than him, so he is my only one.

 

I walked to Erestor's rooms and the staff watching him reported that he had smashed his room up, yet again. I peered through the spy hole and he had shredded the table, his bed, pulled the sink off the wall and broken the bowl. The whipping I gave him, taught him not to attack the staff, so he takes his rage out on the furniture. He uses a particular fighting style to break the furniture, which he learnt on Middle-earth, so Manwë tells me. It can be used as a spectacular mode of self defence and he can use it to break things that an ordinary elf would not be able to, unless he wanted broken bones. He has a selection of fighting styles according to Manwë and one of them is used by assassins to silently stalk the victim and leave a clean kill. They wear black hoods over their faces and black body suits with various sharp objects attached. I saw it in his mind when I looked into it. Because of this I consider Erestor to be the most dangerous elf on Valinor; he is as dangerous as I used to be. I do not see him being released any time soon. It will be many years yet before I can let him go and I hope that Glorfindel finds another because it would serve Erestor right. He deserves no one because he does not know how to love, even though he thinks he does. Even I know the value of a loving relationship.

 

"So childish," I said after walking through the door. "Look at this mess." I have a passion for tidiness and the broken, scattered furniture offended my eyes. Maglor says it is an obsession and that I need treatment for it, but I disagree. I like perfection in everything and that is one of the reasons I love him so much; he is perfect in my eyes. All Maiar desire perfection and we accept that we will never find it in a pure state but with Maglor at least one part of my life has attained it. When I told him so he laughed at me.

 

"Then you will have to replace it," Erestor sneered. "You are not allowed to let me stay in unfit accommodation."

 

"Not this time," I replied and he looked surprised. "You can wallow in your own chaos. I do not have to stay in it with you and so I do not care."

 

I will not note down the invective and abuse that issued from his lips; it is of no consequence and was the angry ramblings of one who has been thwarted again. I smiled; Erestor was unhappy and it pleased me. I left his rooms and grinned at the elf who stayed by the spy hole. "I expect he will smear his own excrement on the walls next," I told him.

 

"My Lord, I cannot see any elf doing that," he replied. "It is against our nature.

 

As if I needed a lesson on the ways of the elves! "He is more like a man in his ways," I told him. "He will do the things that men do as he has lived among them for too long. Send someone up to tell me if he does it before dinner time tonight; otherwise let him stay in it until morning."

 

I walked off to find Maglor. I needed his freshness and vitality to soothe my temper. I was getting nowhere with Erestor and wanted to thrash him to within an inch of his life and then kill him. I cannot abide being frustrated, especially by a half-witted elf who thinks that he has some chance of winning against me. I found Maglor on the beach, throwing axes at a wooden post.

 

"Boo!" I said as he was about to throw the axe. He swivelled round, his eyes wild and held himself just in time.

 

"I nearly hurt you," he accused. "That was a silly thing to do."

 

"You could never hurt me," I said and embraced him. "I need you to take away the poison that is Erestor. He has smashed his furniture to shreds again and I am very close to snapping his neck."

 

"Let him live in it. He will soon realise that it was a silly thing to do when he doesn't have a bed to sleep on tonight," Maglor said and threw the last axe. It did not hit the target. "That's your fault for putting me off. No sex for you tonight."

 

"Let us both blame Erestor and be happy with it," I laughed and took his hand. "How shall we spend the afternoon?"

 

"We should make a large drawing of Erestor and throw darts at it," Maglor replied. "Or I could play my harp and sing to you?"

 

"I never tire of your beautiful voice," I told my only one. "Some say that the most beautiful sound is the birds singing in the trees, but they are like grunting orcs compared to the loveliness of your singing." It was true and ensured that I was back in his good books again. No one ever expects Sauron to pay an honest compliment and even Maglor wonders sometimes if I am for real or merely want something. To reinforce my message, I pulled him towards me and hugged him tight. "I am the most blessed being in Valinor as I have you. You are all mine and I am yours forever."

 

My only one smiled and kissed my lips. "Was Erestor so bad this morning?" he teased.

 

"He was very bad and I have had enough of indulging him," I replied softly with a pout for my only one. I know how to play my elf.

 

"Come to bed and I will hold you in my arms and tell you how lovely you are," Maglor said and kissed my lips. "I will take all your cares away and leave you refreshed."

 

Who could resist such a seductive offer? Maglor knows what he is doing and I am like the soft sand in his fingers. It is hard to believe that he is an elf as he is so wonderful in my eyes and everyone knows that elves are pretty repulsive, though not as much as human men with their rotted teeth and stinking breath, no wonder the orcs liked them. I can offer no resistance because I have none, and nor do I want any. How I love him; how I adore everything about him. One day we will have our freedom and we can be alone together all of the time. Maybe we will travel or maybe we will stay as we are, but it will be our decision and that means more than anything.


	29. Making Headway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron argues with Erestor.

.

 

Erestor lay strapped to the bed; he was not at all happy and treated me to a rather ubiquitous stream of invective.

 

 

"You will never get out of here unless you cooperate," I said, giving him a careless shrug, thus reinforcing that I held the power and he did not. "Only this morning I advised Glorfindel to make a new life for himself. We were passing in the town and he asked how you are. I told him that you are irredeemable." That was a lie, but it is absolutely right that Erestor stops being so complacent about what lies outside for him when he is free. If there is no fear of loss then there will be no reason for him to change.

 

 

"You lie," he yelled at me. "You are nothing but a filthy, evil hearted liar."

 

 

"You compliment me."

 

 

"Glorfindel would never talk to you. He hates you. All the elves hate you." Erestor increased his struggling against the bonds that held him to the bed. His attempts to free himself were so amusing that I nearly burst into laughter.

 

 

"You do not hate me."

 

 

"Yes, I do," he screeched. "I hate you more than anyone."

 

 

"How can you hate me when you have spent the whole of your life trying to emulate me?" I felt it was a fair question.

 

 

"I have never tried to be like you." He aimed a stream of spit in my direction. I stepped aside and it hit the wall. With a slight motion of my hand, the mucus slid off the wall, hovered in mid-air for a split second, then flew across the room, hitting Erestor on the forehead. He was not perturbed at all. He carried on struggling, as if he hadn't noticed.

 

 

Sitting behind him, I held his head in my hands, after willing the spit to go back into his mouth, where it came from. He shook his head furiously in a vain attempt to shake me off. "Let me see," I half muttered, trying not to laugh. "You are guilty of murder; infanticide; the killing of an elfling; deception; torture; poisoning; stabbing; firing high speed projectiles at men's bodies so that it kills them..."

 

 

"You mean firing bullets. Fuckwit!"

 

 

I continued with the list. "Extortion; blackmail; garrotting; rape; genocide in one instance; gassing; drowning; animal cruelty; causing madness; starvation; clubbing; stoning; treason; sexual violence; entrapment; endangerment; throwing acid...any you would like to add?"

 

 

"Suffocation; strangling; electrocution; burning; boiling; hanging; death by vacuum; death by insect; germ warfare; beheading..." Erestor grinned. "You are nothing compared to me. I have a far greater repertoire."

 

 

"No you don't," I replied, unconcerned at his bragging. Practising an imaginative variety of methods to end lives is nothing to boast about. "You have never indulged in cannibalism. I have eaten elf. When Melkor defeated Fingolfin we had fillets of him on toast before releasing his body."

 

 

"Technically you are Maia, so eating elf is not cannibalism. You got it wrong again," Erestor sneered.

 

 

"It matters not," I smiled. "I have tasted elf and you haven't."

 

 

"Whoopee-doo for you," Erestor said in a tone he must have hoped was sarcastic. He was probably suppressing the desire to know what elf tasted like. I wouldn't have told him even if he did ask.

 

 

"So, anyway, I am thinking of making friends with Glorfindel," I paused slightly to let the concept sink in. "He was most amenable in the town. Elrond has given me rather a good character reference, and, it seems, he has abandoned his dislike of me. Wouldn't it be extremely delicious if Maglor and I invited him to tea? I might give him a tour. Of course, I would have to let him see the squalor you have chosen to live in. Regrettably, I would have to say again that your situation is irredeemable."

 

 

Erestor exploded with rage. I took the advantage of his loss of control to grip his head and send him to sleep. I have decided to remove the memories of his violence towards others; there are so many that it will take a long time, but he has immortality and so do I, therefore it is not unachievable.

 

 

How interesting! Erestor was a passenger in a high speed horseless chariot crash; I believe Manwë said once that it was called a car. Since then his violence has been much less prevalent than it was before. Maybe it was the time it took for him to recover, or maybe it was because he suffered brain damage. I do not have the time to explore what it might be; that can wait for another day. This afternoon, I would be removing the learning and knowledge of some of his combative techniques. Probing around in his thoughts, eventually revealed that he stayed in several countries, in a part of Middle-earth he calls 'the Far East', and learned several different styles of fighting. Taking one place of learning at a time, I could remove the memories and replace them with other thoughts. There are several disciplines of fighting that Erestor learned in a place called Japan. It would take a couple of hours to sift through the root thoughts and genesis of his learning, but if I succeeded then he might not try to kick me as soon as I walk through his door. It is terribly tedious being attacked whenever I walk into his room; I could be enjoying his total obedience and compliance instead.

 

 

After three hours I was bored and sought a different diversion, preferably one involving Maglor, whom I adore. However, all the teaching Erestor received in Japan was erased from his memory. I replaced it with Japanese techniques of Ikebana flower arranging; bento box design - food arranging, apparently, and Mah-jongg, the four winds game, which Erestor played all the time. He was never very good at it, so he should be happy with the new skill level I have given him. I made him a master in all three disciplines so that he positively insists on following his new interests. I have also given him a love of tidiness and cleanliness. I am so looking forward to taking him back to his smashed up rooms.

 

 

I doubt whether I have changed Erestor at all, except that he will use the alternative fighting techniques learned in the other countries where he studied, but the mess in his room should drive him to distraction. One grabs small pleasures where one can, and also with both hands. I have removed from his memory all the times when he smashed up his room, just in case the memory jogs the other ones back into existence. One has to be very careful to remove all the threads leading to and from a former behaviour.

 

 

Erestor was still asleep when I deposited him back in his bedroom. I was not about to wait around to see how he would react to all the ruined furniture when I could be spending time with Maglor instead. Walking through the house, I called my beloved's name. He was in the kitchen with the cook. She was busy stacking small logs into a portable stove and stuffing bits of material and thin pine branches in-between them.

 

 

"Are we having a barbecue again?" I asked brightly. The cook smiled and said that Maglor had ordered one.

 

 

"I am going to catch a huge fish, and then we can eat it. I have loads of picnic foods in this basket and a bottle of wine." Maglor handed the basket to me and picked up the stove.

 

 

"You haven't caught the fish yet," I said.

 

 

"You can do that by waving your hand and making one appear. Like you always do." Maglor grinned.

 

 

"Isn't that cheating?" I raised an eyebrow in question, not that I am concerned a jot about cheating; it is an admirable quality if done by me.

 

 

"What do you care?" Maglor laughed. "You have always done it."

 

 

"One does not expect an elf to cheat." I placed my arm around his shoulders. "You know how I like consistency."

 

 

"Ha!" Maglor chuckled. "I am an ion of Fëanor. I reserve the right to go against the grain."

 

 

"I am glad you are not one of those wishy washy do-gooders." I really meant it. One of the things I love about Maglor is that he killed so many and showed no mercy, which was well before I captured him. Of course there was that aberration with Elrond and Elros, but I blame his half-witted brother Maedhros for that; for a number of years he led my only one astray. There was also the period where he felt guilty about his past, but all elves have innate compassion, so after a time I suppose it was to be expected; however, it is not a desirable trait in anyone. I have only ever felt guilt for one thing, and that is for my torture of Maglor, simply because I love him. It passed extremely quickly though. I admit that I would still happily torture elves, if I could, but never my Maglor; he is different, and too high in my favour and love, for that to ever apply to him.

 

 

He ran through the sea with his bamboo rod, from which hung a length of string with a sausage tied to the end. I sat on the beach laughing at his antics. At one point, I waved my hand, like he expected me to, and suddenly a big fish grabbed the sausage in its mouth. Maglor speared it with the arrow in his other hand. Part of the game is wondering when the fish is going to appear.

 

 

We sat down and had our picnic while the fish cooked on the portable stove. Anor dipped below the horizon and sent her red evening glow up into the sky, ready to be lit by Ithil from behind us. We buried our toes in the sand and looked out over the dark sea.

 

 

"We have the best of days, don't we?" Maglor slipped his hand into mine.

 

 

I smiled, before turning to kiss him. "Yes, Meleth, we do."

 


	30. Erestor the Ballet Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron continues to make fun of erestor by manipulating his memories.

According to the elves who constantly watch Erestor, he was not at all happy about the mess he had caused in his room. He refuses to believe that he made the mess himself, probably because I took the memories away, and has demanded that I do something about it.

 

 

"There will be no replacement of furniture until you decide to stop smashing it up," I replied as I walked out of the room. I turned swiftly and grabbed his foot, which was an inch width away from my head. He fell to the floor as he overbalanced.

 

 

"You bastard," he yelled at me, as I crushed his foot in my hand. I felt the bones snap and then let go of his mangled foot. He held onto it as if it were precious, moaning with the pain.

 

 

"You give me the nicest compliments," I sneered. "That will teach you not to kick me from behind."

 

 

"Take the trolley in there and strap him on the bed," I said to the elf by the door. "His foot is hurting, but do not be gentle with him just because he is in a little bit of pain. He can take it."

 

 

I listened to Erestor's shriek of agony as the elves lifted him onto the bed and strapped his broken foot down. How nostalgic the sound was for me. I remember happy days and nights spent in Barad-hûr listening to the screams and moans of my victims whilst I sat on my throne, or when I lay in my bed, usually with the terrified but compliant Maglor who dared say nothing. Damn! That last thought has spoilt the whole of the deliciousness of Erestor's screaming. He continued yelling, even though I demanded that he be quiet. I smacked his face so hard that he was knocked out. That will teach him to evoke unpleasant memories.

 

 

Because I cannot abide mess or untidiness, I had Erestor removed to the mind reading room so I could sit comfortably behind him and not have my shoes touch bits of broken furniture. My fingers touched both sides of his head and I looked deep into his mind. Eradicating the Japanese fighting arts had not stopped Erestor trying to kick my head; I had hoped it would. Still, the source would be revealed in the end, and I thought that removing all ability in Korean martial arts might be productive. It seems that Erestor spent several years there and had become quite proficient. All the training and practises that he indulged in were removed and by using his other memories of the landscape, people, dwellings and culture, I built a new life in memories for him.

 

 

When Erestor remembers his stay in Korea, martial arts will not come to mind. Instead he would have fond memories of his time spent as a humble, peace loving Buddhist monk who developed a passionate interest in grass weaving, but was not very good at it. How amusing all this is and it took only four hours to achieve. One of the servants brought a tray of tea and sandwiches in from my only one, who worries that I do not eat enough when I am tending Erestor.

 

 

I ate my crab and lemon thyme sandwiches and Erestor slowly woke up. He moaned a lot as he came to. I expect that his foot is very painful and that his face feels quite sore also. There is always a reason to smile and a silver lining in any cloud. For the most part I ignored his moans of pain, although I must say they sounded like a sweet background musical accompaniment to my rather delicious repast and I am sure the ground vanilla custard and fresh raspberries were even more scrumptious because of his distress. I sighed happily and thought how fortuitous it was that I removed the events of the morning when he went to kick me and I knocked him out. Now I could tell him anything.

 

 

"What happened?" he asked, somewhat groggily. "My face hurts and my foot is in agony."

 

 

"Do you think that perhaps you could enunciate more clearly?" I asked as I took a sip of my tea.

 

 

"My jaw feels broken," he said and I could hardly contain my laughter.

 

 

Now what outrageous lie could I tell him? It was all too easy. "Your foot hurts because you kicked the furniture in your room to pieces in temper and the swan you had secreted in your rooms as a rather dubious pet, flew at your face and I fear it has broken your jaw."

 

 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Erestor said as best he could. "I bet you broke my jaw and I don't remember a swan in my rooms or kicking my furniture to pieces."

 

 

I was invigorated. Touching the sides of his head, and making him wince because I pressed where the jaw had dislocated, I fed images of an attacking swan into his mind and transposed it into his room.

 

 

"It was the swan that smashed my room up, not me," Erestor said angrily. "I broke my foot trying to kick it away and it hit the side of my bed instead. Don't try and blame me for it, you fucking shite."

 

 

Believe what you want Erestor; you have just shown that you are very susceptible to my mind control. He was always able to resist me before and I am wondering if removing the Japanese and Korean fighting abilities has made his mind more amenable. Perhaps it has also removed his self control also; Erestor would never have shown that he was in pain before or reveal any weakness. His self discipline was controlled with a will of iron but slowly it was crumbling and I knew that I would win.

 

 

"I will get the healer to look at it later on," I said in a bored voice.

 

 

"You will get the healer now!" Erestor yelled and started to struggle.

 

 

"One of the servants is collecting the flowers you requested yesterday," I said, ignoring his little outburst.

 

 

"What flowers?" he screeched.

 

 

"The ones for the ikebana display you were going to make," I lied. "You said that it would make your rooms more homely."

 

 

"I did not say anything of the sort." Erestor was outraged. "Stop bloody lying to me. It is years ago since I was a Master in Ikebana so why would I want to start doing it again?" Ah, so, Erestor! The mind implantation worked well. How amused I am that you have never arranged flowers in your life and yet you now think that you have experience of it.

 

 

"Isn't flower arranging a bit of an elleth occupation?" I teased.

 

 

"Fuck off, gimp," he said. I laughed.

 

 

"There is nothing you can do," I said and howled with maniacal laughter to scare him.

 

 

It did not work. "How clichéd you are," he said as if bored. "I am going to sleep now. If you can think of anything interesting then say it now or else hold your tongue." He shut his eyes and I let him.

 

 

When I was convinced that he was asleep I decided to sort through his memories for fun, not because I intended changing them, although in view of his disrespect I was sorely tempted to give him a new past as an accountant with a secret double life as an adult baby. I placed my hands on either side of his head and probed back through time. In the early nineteen-hundreds, Erestor had lived in Russia and had run a fishery business whilst leading a double life as a gangster controlling the import and export of goods through the docks, along the whole of the Baltic shoreline. Out of fun and no inconsiderable amount of malice, I removed the memories of his nefarious past in Russia and gave him ones of being a ballet dancer. Sorting through the rest of his mind made it easy to cobble a past of sorts together for him. He had been to see the ballet in St. Petersburg and the woman with him had waxed lyrical about the genius of Nijinsky. She had been a countess and it amused me to see the circles a common little criminal could aspire to and move within. Erestor now had memories of being a good, but not gifted, dancer in the Diaghilev ballet company and getting out of Russia just before the revolution. I would have to deal with the memories of what happened when he escaped another time. He did escape from the Baltic at around the same period so it should not be too much of a conflict of memories.

 

 

I was tired. I needed to see Maglor and listen to him sing. I called for the elf outside and told him that Erestor was ready to go back to his rooms. He was still asleep; strange how he could sleep in so much pain.

 

 

I walked off to the house and saw Maglor doing a jigsaw puzzle. The rain poured outside, hitting the French paned doors with considerable force. "Hello, Meleth," I said and smiled. He looked up and grinned.

 

 

"I have missed you," he said. "Jigsaw puzzles are not terribly exciting."

 

 

Lightening hit the ground near the windows and we looked at it. "That was close," I said.

 

 

"Let us go up to our bedroom and sit on the balcony," Maglor said. "We can watch the storm."

 

 

"You could be hit by lightening," I replied.

 

 

"We could open the balcony doors and watch from inside the room," Maglor suggested. "I love thunder storms."

 

 

"Come on then," I said and took his hand.

 

 

We went into our bedroom and opened the doors to the balcony. The rain hit the glass roof and we could see the lightening strike the metalwork. Out at sea, angry waves were lit by sudden flashes as the forks hit them. The sweet smell of rain-washed earth wafted into our room and the air became fresh and cool. I sat behind Maglor on our two-elf chair, holding him in my arms and occasionally kissing his warm neck, his face smiling every time the sky lit up.

 

 

"It is awesome," he said in wonder. "To have power like that must be breathtaking."

 

 

I said nothing, but now that I know he loves thunderstorms they will be a more frequent event. I did not create the storm today but it is well within my capabilities to do so.

 

 

I will do this for Maglor because I love him; nothing is too much when ensuring my only one's happiness. Perhaps Erestor should have learnt that with Glorfindel, as that would have been his saving grace. Still, it is too late now and only I can save him from himself, not that I want to, of course!


	31. The Ethics of Change, or, How Far is One Allowed to Go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manwe give Erestor a garden - Sauron is not pleased.

I have spent several weeks altering Erestor's memories of the past two millennia and rooting out a significant proportion of the adverse practices that he has pursued or learned. I still have several thousand years of memories to sort, but I feel that it is better to work backwards in time as his most recent learning is more dangerous to the others who live here. In order to replace the memories I gave him new ones; it would not be wise to leave gaping holes where once there were rich experiences, furthermore I had to marry up the new memories so that there were no disjointed events that would cause him to wonder. I have been rather imaginative; he now believes he was a druid somewhere in a place called Wales and escaped being caught by a warlike people called, 'the Romans'. He evaded them literally by the skin of his teeth, hiding down an abandoned badger sett for five years to avoid capture. I made the escape a mildly exciting memory for him and living down a hole thoroughly wet and unpleasant. It seems that Erestor has lived in very interesting times and there was much to alter. I made his memories of being one of the leading lights of the Spanish Inquisition very dull indeed. How I wish I could have been there to watch the victims screaming in their agony as they burned, but I was not, and if I could not enjoy it first hand then I do not see why Erestor should retain such a pleasant memory. Erestor believes that he rode from town to town on a donkey in the freezing cold, and every town was deserted when he arrived, so there was no one to sentence to death. How dispiriting it was for him in that alternate life that I gave him.

 

 

Wherever there was war, invasion, genocide, mass cruelty, disaster and excessive misery, Erestor was around, gleefully contributing to the awfulness that man had made for himself. One cannot help but admire him for that; however, it is my job to change his memories and dig out his repressed morality and conscience. I am hoping it does not take too long to find, as I will quite enjoy his angst. I hope I find it before I have changed all his memories so that I have some vicarious amusement at his expense.

 

 

It has been a couple of weeks since Erestor tried to attack me. His room is pristine and I do not find it so offensive to go in there now that the furniture has been replaced and he keeps it tidy. He insists on the utmost standards of hygiene and has demanded cleaning cloths, which he washes daily, a broom and several plants that deter insects and can be brewed into a washing liquid. Of course, 'the Ikebana master' has a very nice display of flowers on the table and thinks that informing me that he will never make a display for my rooms, upsets me somehow. Oh dear, my life is not worth living now that Glorfindel's tart won't make me an arrangement of flowers! How Maglor laughed when I told him about that; he found it as hilarious as I did.

 

 

Manwë congratulated me on reducing Erestor's violent tendencies and suggested that I allow him out of his room into a small garden which he has created especially for him. I am not so sure if that is a good idea; he could escape and has threatened to kill Maglor several times. The Lord of Airs told me that Erestor needs a wider input than his rooms can give him because he fears he will decline. What in Valinor would he know about it? I am the one who cures the elves, not him.

 

 

"I have given him the memories of being a Buddhist monk and they are well used to meditating and being on their own." I thought he would catch my reasoning.

 

 

"I have no idea what a Buddhist monk is," Manwë replied. "I have decided that you will do this and you will not argue."

 

 

I tried to remain evenly tempered. "Erestor has issued several death threats against Maglor; I fear that even with most of his fighting skill removed he is more than a match for my only one." Yes Manwë, deal with it. You made me fall in love with Maglor and you can make bloody sure he stays safe.

 

 

"Use your skills, Sauron to make sure he does not escape," Manwë hissed with annoyance. "Do I have to do everything for you?"

 

 

I hope that Eru sings Manwë's death and makes it a protracted one of seemingly endless agony. "I am not sure how far you will allow me to go, that is why I ask," I replied. "I have already been your, 'Erestor' once and I have no wish to be so again."

 

 

Manwë smiled and stole a grape from the fruit display; he knows it irritates me when he does that but I said nothing. "I was wondering if you would see the parallel." The thief took another grape and spat the pips on the carpet! "Nienna's treatment of you, ground you down completely to the point where you sought non-existence rather than live one more minute of your life." I wondered why he needed to tell me again. "She and Melkor made you suffer as you have never done so before. I gave you the ability to love properly and feel compassion, although you choose to apply it to one elf only, the seeds are within you should you ever seek to be as you were when you were young. You and Erestor are not that different. When we showed you kindness in your pit of despair you acted positively, and I expect Erestor will be the same."

 

 

"I should be kind to, Erestor?" I asked in a most disbelieving tone. "He would think I was weak and despise me for it."

 

 

"Not if you seemed like a saviour to him," Manwë said. He stole a whole section of grapes and I asked him why he did not take the whole bunch. "Your facetiousness has earned you a most humiliating punishment," Manwë informed me. "I already let you off with so much; however, your sarcasm is the last straw and I do not have to put up with it."

 

 

We all have our pet hates and only Manwë is allowed to be sarcastic, he doesn't even do it that well. The room changed from my living room to what I assume was a cell. It smelt of damp, the body odour of frightened beings and old blood. The room was dark but not completely so; I could see a metal ring on the wall above my head. A small chain led from them to the metal cuffs around my wrists. My clothing had disappeared and Manwë stood behind my naked body.

 

 

So long as he did not use tentacles, Manwë could do as he liked.


	32. The Difference Between Perception and Reality.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manwe gives Sauron a horrific punishment.

"Most of the time, Sauron, you speak before you think. Perhaps it is unwitting but I believe it is deliberate. Or, perhaps you know exactly what you are going to say, which makes your sarcasm even more intolerable." Manwë said softly in my ear. He caressed the handle of a leather whip across my cheek. I have had worse.

 

I said nothing. If he questioned that I did not answer I could say I was thinking of a reply. No doubt that would earn me more punishment but I will not let him win easily.

 

"How will Maglor react when he see's your marked body, I wonder," Manwë said and stroked his hand across the cheeks of my arse. Everything comes down to sex in the end, doesn't it? I wish I could have farted and blown his hand across the room. However, it is well known that only elves have the ability to be that repulsive.

 

"I do not know," I replied. I do know but I am not playing his game. Maglor will care for my wounds and be distressed that I am hurt; he will hate Manwë and not be so ready, ever again, to give them his trust.

 

"You know exactly how he will react," Manwë said in a soft voice; I could feel his breath like a slight zephyr skimming my ear. "Do not play games with me."

 

He moved away and I felt the whip crack across my back. I refused to cry out, even though it was much harder than when Melkor used to whip me. So long as I kept in my mind that it was not the same as a tentacle then I should be all right. "Tell me," Manwë ordered.

 

"He will be upset," I said, so that he could barely hear it. I said it like that so he would be deceived into thinking that I was more bothered about being whipped than I really was. Melkor used to whip me as part of our sex together and demanded that I answered him like this. It made him feel happier that I could be suffering, even though we both knew I enjoyed it, and I suppose old habits die hard. Manwë looks the same as Melkor; his face is no different and he is just as beautiful. However, his eyes do not contain the same amount of cruelty as my former Master's, so I doubt that he will be as rough with me. His innate goodness will eventually stay his hand and that is why I view him as weak, even though he is the one who saved me from his brother and his insane wife.

 

"You do not deceive me, Sauron." The whip handle stroked along the line across my back. I did not react. "Do not put the voice on for me. I know you enjoy this sort of experience." I could almost feel him smiling. "Well so do I."

 

"I only enjoy it with one I have feelings for," I said and wished I had not.

 

"That is where it becomes a punishment and not an pleasurable experience, wouldn't you agree?"

 

"Master, I know that you would not give me a punishment that I would enjoy," I said almost humbly, although I do not do it particularly well.

 

This seemed to placate his anger somewhat. "Why do you only ever call me Master when there is something at stake?" Manwë asked. "Normally you avoid saying it." I said nothing. "You are my slave and punishment is long overdue." He walked a few steps to either side of me. "Such a beautiful body you have my little slave. My recalcitrant, badly behaved slave, who thinks he is too good to address me by my title and presumes to think that I know nothing of his slanderous and ungrateful thoughts about me." So Manwë can read my mind; I did not know it that was possible for a Vala to read the mind of a Maia. Obviously, I will have to be more careful in the future and block my thoughts whenever he is present.

 

The whip slashed across my back and I breathed in sharply. This was followed by a frenzy of angry lashes. I screwed my face up trying not to call out as I did not want to appear weak in front of him. I lost count at one point; I knew I was being whipped and yet it was as though I was somewhere else. The pain was there and I still felt it, but it was as though it was happening to someone else. All was very surreal and I wondered if I was indeed in the room with the one who would call me his slave or somewhere else entirely. The lashes across my back halted and I was only vaguely aware as Manwë pulled my head back, his fist buried in my hair. He did not look real. He was saying something but it was as though he was talking to another and I watched. I felt him turn me around and the whipping began afresh but this time I could see the damage done to my flesh. The panic caught hold of me and I cried out. Manwë whipped me so hard and for such a long duration that the lines melded into one and the bits of torn skin fell away onto the floor. I could see the anger in his face as he struck me and I knew that I would die if he did not stop. Though, on reflection, dying is not the worst thing that can happen to someone.

 

I raised my head, imploring him to stop but the words would not come out and I knew not why. Perhaps he was waiting for me to beg and my mind stopped me so that one small part of my self respect could be maintained. That was not the worst of my torture though, and in comparison with what he did next it was very mild. He once said that he had worse punishments than anything Melkor could deliver and I did not believe him. It was folly not to do so.

 

Two elves came to the door and put my feet and calves in two wide metal boots. I had once seen such items of torture in Erestor's brain but had not found out how they could be employed; all I knew was that prisoners feared them. The boots were positioned on the floor and so heavy that I could not move them. I watched as the two elves brought in a brazier with a large pot of molten metal in the middle. Manwë dismissed the elves and turned to me. "This is going to be extremely painful," he said with a smile. I could not make sense of how anything could equal the pain I was already in, as my mind refused to believe that Manwë would go as far as the items of torture suggested he would.

 

Manwë took the pot of molten metal and poured a thick stream of it into the metal boots fastened to my feet. I screamed as I have never done before. I could not pass out but continued screaming as the molten metal burned my feet and lower legs into nothing, so that only bony stumps were left. The skin on my thighs caught fire with the heat of the metal and I remember the smell of my flesh burning as the flames licked ever upwards. I do not know how long it went on for but it seemed forever as the agony was relentless. I felt a tear running down my cheek.

 

It had never occurred to me to do anything like that to any of my prisoners in any of my strongholds, and yet it seemed such a simple idea; I feel that I have failed in this respect now that my punishment is over and I can think more clearly. If only I had used my imagination more.

 

"I wish you had begged me not to punish you and pleaded for mercy," Manwë told me as I sobbed. He had put the flames out with a wave of his hand but the burnt areas on my thighs remained, crisp, black and charred, with clear liquid and blood running from the open areas. "It might have stayed my hand somewhat." It was most odd; he seemed regretful, almost as if he were concerned and not as though he was taunting me at all.

 

"Please," I tried to say, unable to form the word properly. I was thoroughly beaten and hoping that he would listen.

 

"No," Manwë said. "It is too late now. I should not have to tell you." He walked over to the door and pulled a chair opposite me. After wiping the seat with a handkerchief he sat down and looked at me. My sobbing had quietened but I still cried and sniffed, much like one of my guests in one of my strongholds would have done after being tortured. "Look at how pathetic you are, Sauron." Manwë smiled. "What should I do to you next?"

 

I did not answer; I could not, all that would come out was incomprehensible words. The end of my tongue hung loosely at an angle out of my mouth; I had bitten into the end so hard during my agony it had all but severed. He stood up and swivelled me back round so that my front faced the wall and my back was towards him. To my horror, the boots fell away and the burnt stumps of bone that were once my lower legs swung freely, not quite reaching the ground. I screamed until Manwë jerked my head back by the hair and told me to stop. He released my head which swung forward and my forehead hit the wall. The blood run into my eyes and all I could think of was how Maglor would look at me seeing my body so injured. That is when I felt something pushing into my secret entrance. Manwë was raping me and with each thrust the strain on my cuffed wrists was unbearable. I cried out at the violation; my last defence was broken and nothing was mine anymore.

 

"I own you," Manwë said as he came. "I own every bit of you."

 

He withdrew and released the cuffs so that I dropped. I heard the dull sound of my bony stumps hit the tiles before my body crashed against the wall and then onto the floor. The bones on one side of my face smashed, hitting against one of the discarded boots which was still fiery hot. Breathing heavily I coughed out the blood filling my throat. My neck had also hit against the boot but I had not realised that any injury was done. Pain racked my body making any perception flawed and it did not occur to me that I was close to death.

 

A strong fist pulled me up by my hair. Manwë dragged me across the room, my stumps scraping across the floor, then placed me on a bed. He sat down beside me. "You have done far worse to your victims before killing them," he said to me as I spat the blood collecting in my throat. No I haven't actually, Manwë, I thought. I have never done that to anyone's feet and don't try and justify your behaviour, that is something I have never done; it is the mark of a bullying coward. He must have known my thoughts and yet he chose not to do anything about it; he did not need to as I was about to endure even more pain.

 

Manwë told me to open my mouth fully and poke my tongue out. I did not dare refuse him. He touched it and my body jerked with the pain of it knitting together. Then he ran his hand across my face and neck and the cuts and bones healed. My mouth stopped filling with blood and I found it easier to breathe. My cure was as painful as when the damage was caused. I dared to hope that Manwë would heal my feet too; not thinking of the pain it would cause me.

 

"Sauron, who am I?" Manwë asked. It was a trick question and I had to give him the answer he wanted or else risk more pain. If I said he was Manwë then he would say that I had not learnt the lesson that he was my master and if I called him Master then he would punish me because I had not worded my response correctly by not using his full name.

 

"You are Manwë, Lord of Airs and my Master," I said, with a defeated tone in my voice.

 

He smiled. "To whom do you belong?"

 

"I belong to you, Master," I replied and felt the humiliation wash over me as my mind gave in and I accepted that I was truly his slave.

 

He moved down the bed. "I am very tolerant, Sauron, and I have given you a lot of freedom. Many times you have been sarcastic and rude to me, even to the point of openly sneering. If I order you to do something, you refuse, and you show contempt as you do so. You are not a dark lord anymore, but my slave, and I hope that I have impressed upon you just how much more powerful I am than you are." He always was one to brag.

 

"Yes, Master," I replied, willing my mind to at least accept that when it came to torture he was certainly more adept than I was.

 

Manwë ran his hands over my burnt thighs and the bony stumps; he told me that I would feel the pain that had accompanied their destruction in reverse. Quickly he came up the bed and held me as I screamed my agony. Now he was not against me in my pain but with me; however, it made no difference. Eventually my feet reformed, and the pain ceased but still I could not stop sobbing.

 

"It is done," Manwë soothed. "So that you do not forget the lesson easily, I am not going to heal your back and front. They can heal naturally but I promise you there will be no scars. I do not want Maglor to be reminded of your stupidity every time he looks at you. That would only cause him to resent me more than he already will."

 

Manwë waved his hand and my chest and back were covered in wide padded bandages. My wrists were also bound with the cotton strips where the cuffs had cut through the skin. My face looked perfect, as did my legs and feet, although my arms had some red stripes on them due to the whip hitting them when my back and chest had been struck.

 

"Remember, Sauron," Manwë said to me. "I can bring you back here and repeat the experience but I would rather that I did not have to. I would be happy for you never to see this room again. It would be better for us to work together and achieve a degree of trust so that you never have to repeat the experience. You were not always this way, were you?"

 

I remember the life I had before Melkor seduced me. I was fairer than I am now and my inner light was strong. All that is gone now and there is no way back. The corruption of innocence is an action that cannot be reversed; I should know, I have done it to so many and Melkor did it to me. Those who have walked into darkness and embraced it, still retain a small hidden spark that desires the previous ease of life before everything became complicated. In my fëa, that spark is almost non-existent and so I do not see how it can be set aflame again. I am a hopeless cause, but not all is lost; I have Maglor's love and my love for him. Surely that will carry me through?


	33. Manwë is Thwarted!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond tries to heal Sauron after Manwe's torture.

The darkness of the torture room faded and I found myself in my bed with Maglor sitting anxiously beside me. The pain was still with me, but my feet, legs and face did not hurt. My chest and back were all right, so long as I did not move, but when I did I winced, partly at the memory and also because of the pain itself.

 

"Manwë told me that he punished you," Maglor said. "He said that you had endured worse than anything Melkor had done to you."

 

I took his hand. "I will be all right." I gave him a weak smile and felt my heavy eyelids closing in sleep. "At least there were no tentacles."

 

I awoke some time later. "You have been asleep for nearly two days," Maglor said, he looked worried and kept kissing my fingers. "I do not want you to ever go through this again." He stroked my hair. "Please say that you will not cause Lord Manwë to punish you again."

 

"I will be all right," I said again. "I will heal fast. It is nothing."

 

"You have no skin on your chest and back," Maglor protested. "I helped Elrond dress your wounds and he said you are lucky to be alive; if you were an elf you would be dead, no question about it."

 

"Meleth," I said, aware that I was tiring. "I am sorry you had to see that, but Manwë assures me that I will heal, and Melkor has whipped me before so it was not a new experience."

 

"Promise me that you will not do anything to cause being punished again!" Maglor demanded. He looked anxious and upset; not only had Manwë punished me but he had also made my only one suffer because of his love for me.

 

"I promise," I said and sighed.

 

Maglor gave a sigh of relief and kissed my lips. "I am sure that Melkor did not leave you without skin when he whipped you."

 

"No, he never," I replied thinking of all the times Melkor had allowed his tentacle hordes to tear me in half and eat my body whilst my fëa looked on in agony during my time in the void. I looked at his troubled face and wanted so much to comfort him. "I promise you, Meleth, that I will do what I can to avoid this happening again." I reached up to stroke his face even though it made me wince. "I love you so much. I do not want to see you like this. I only ever want to see you happy."

 

He laid my arm back down and I felt my eyelids closing as if in a drugged sleep. It was late evening before I woke again. Elrond was changing my bandages and the pain made me hiss.

 

"Well, hello," Elrond said cheerfully. "Manwë told me to come and see to you; he said that an unfortunate event had removed the skin from your chest and back."

 

"You could put it like that," I replied.

 

"I can see you have been whipped to the point that your skin was flayed but other than that I will not ask unless you want to tell me," Elrond said. It was not a question but a statement, and from his tone I guessed that he did not really want to know. "Who would have thought that I would be the dark lord's healer?"

 

Yes, who would have thought. "When can I get up?" I asked. "I know it won't be for a few days yet."

 

"I would say a couple of weeks," Elrond replied. "Although Maglor tells me that Manwë said it would be a few days time when you are healed, but two days are gone already and you are nowhere near healing yet." He invited me to look down at my chest as he pulled the old bandage away to replace it with a new one. The skin had not renewed at all and all I could see was red flesh.

 

Manwë is such a liar. He said a few days, not weeks. I despise liars unless I am the one lying of course. I never thought I would ever live the day when an elf's word meant more than a Valar's did. Elrond counts me as one of his friends. Manwë made me visit with him for assessments on elves whom he thought could benefit from having the awful bits of their memories changed and we struck up a guarded kind of trust. Whilst I find most elves repulsive, he is not as bad as some of them are. Maglor and Elrond like each other a lot, but then they would.

 

Elrond gave me something to sleep and said that he was going to leave me some books to read from his library so I did not get too bored. Apparently, he is going to visit me every day until I heal, how nice of him. I hope he doesn't take back the books I decided to not return to him. Otherwise I will have to relend them. I hate giving books back; it is like having an arm chopped off if it is a really good one.

 

"Here is a book about the elves travelling across the Helcaraxë drawn mainly from personal experiences. I know that it is a favourite interest of yours," Elrond said. He knows my tastes. There is hardly anything more amusing than reading about the privations of the elves who travelled across the icy wastelands. "Here is another about the Fëanorian Legacy and how it affected the elves throughout their history and here is another and it is about Aulendil's deception of the Noldor; thought you might want to read about a devious Maia for a change." Elrond laughed.

 

"I shall start that one first," I replied, brightening up considerably.

 

"Better to get some sleep," Elrond replied. "Seriously though, I hope you are not in too much pain and I will come and see you tomorrow. Maglor has your analgesia and medicine to make you sleep and so I expect you will have a comfortable night."

 

"Thank you," I said, because I am polite and he was trying to help me. I am not above thanking someone for aiding me when I cannot do something for myself and as I insist on good manners from everyone else I suppose I should show them as well.

 

The drug pulled me down into the darkness of dreamless sleep. When I awoke it was morning and Maglor lay beside me. He looked beautiful in his sleep and I ached to touch him.

 

"How are you, Sauron?" Manwë asked from the other side of my bed. He did not even knock before coming into my bedroom. He may be the Lord of Airs but he has no breeding whatsoever.

 

"I am as well as can be expected, Master," I said to him. I was careful to use the word, 'master' because I did not want him to repeat the torture, not because I had any new respect for him. In fact I had less than I did before, but he has the implements to make my life one of utter dread and so I played the game.

 

"You are not healing as quickly as I expected," he said as if it was my fault.

 

"No, Master. Elrond says that it will be two weeks before I can get out of bed."

 

"Hm...what about Erestor?" He asked whilst stoking his chin, a stupid habit affected by fools who think that it shows they have a brain, they might as well scratch their own arses.

 

Who gives a fuck about Erestor! Here I am, hurt beyond comprehension and he wants me to consider that troublesome little turd of an elf. "I have no idea, Master," I replied and thought of the sea so that he could not know my inner thoughts.

 

"Do you miss looking at the sea?" Manwë asked me.

 

"Yes, Master," I replied. "The sea is calming and I do most of my thinking whilst looking at it from the balcony."

 

"Why do you think of the sea when I am talking to you?" Manwë asked.

 

I thought that I should tell him a reason that was somewhat true. "Master, I have all sorts of thoughts pushing for dominance and so I think of the sea to calm them. I do not want to go into the torture chamber again."

 

"Good answer," Manwë said and smiled. "Although you are one of the most devious bastards I have ever met, normally you speak the truth."

 

I never see the point in lying when the truth can hurt so much. I said nothing as I was trying to avoid saying the M word.

 

"If you incur my anger ever again, I will take Maglor from you. He will cease to exist and your heart will be broken," Manwë told me. "Do I make myself clear?"

 

"Master, how is that fair? Maglor has never done anything other than show you the greatest respect and you would kill him?" How I was panicking, but I needed to repress it so that I could argue logically. "I would not be your slave anymore as I would take my own life. If Maglor dies then so do I." I have been dead many times and I do not fear it at all. "Besides, would Eru agree that a Valar can take the life of an innocent?"

 

"It is not up to Eru," Manwë said as if disinterested. "It is up to what I decide. If I want to take Maglor's life I will."

 

Another Vala materialised in the room. "I will not allow the fëa of an innocent to die just because you are slightly miffed at the actions of another. One cannot die in place of another and Eru will not let you take a life just because you feel like it." Námo stood before Manwë and glared at him.

 

They argued like cat and dog, taking no notice of me. Maglor slept through all of it and I suspect that Manwë had made it that way. I was glad that he could not hear the threat to his life; he would have been so upset and frightened.

 

In the end, Manwë withdrew the threat. Námo had told him that he would seek an audience with Eru if he did not. Maglor was safe and I thanked Námo for his intervention. I thought that now I could relax, but another form appeared in the room. Varda, Manwë's spouse appeared in all her bright, bejewelled glory and took her husband's hand.

 

"I understand your anger," she said to Manwë. "However, what you proposed was very wrong and would cause Sauron to hate you and all who live in Valinor. How can one redeem with harsh treatment and violent words?"

 

"You do not understand," Manwë said softly to her. "He hurt the firstborn beyond compare."

 

"Yes, he did," Varda replied as she put her arm around her idiot husband. "However, Maglor is one of the first born and so you would be just like Sauron, if he were to kill him because Sauron you are angry."

 

"He is only one," Manwë said to her.

 

"He is as special as the rest," Varda replied. "In fact he is more than that because in spite of everything he is able to feel a deep and lasting affection for one who is unloveable." Well thank you, Varda.

 

Varda walked over to me. "Sauron." She looked at me expecting an answer.

 

"My Lady," I replied and smiled because I can be as charming as the next person.

 

"You are healed and Maglor is safe. If he is threatened again I will intervene. However; you remain at my husband's mercy. Those of a less obstinate disposition might see clearly that it would be a good idea not to antagonise him but work towards creating a trust instead." She smiled at me. "Manwë is you master and will remain so. You willingly called Melkor, 'Master' and so you can do the same with his brother. After all, there is not much that is different between them."

 

"Thank you, my Lady," I said heartily relieved that Maglor was safe and I was healed. "I will do all that I can."

 

Manwë disappeared in a huff after telling me he would see me later and to keep my grubby hands off his wife, no doubt alluding to the short lived dalliance I once had with her before Melkor corrupted me. Manwë could not expect her to remain a virgin for the rest of her life, after all, no young male Maia was ever safe if they caught her husband's eye. It is to my eternal happiness that I was never the object of his lust. Námo sat by my bed looking amused and Varda sat on the mattress facing me. She took my hand in hers and looked at me excitedly.

 

"Now tell me," she tittered. "What awful embarrassing memories are you going to give Erestor next?"


	34. Erestor's Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor attacks Sauron - again.

I spent a most enjoyable hour with Varda and Námo, who offered all sorts of terribly amusing but impracticable suggestions as to what I should do with Erestor's memories. Maglor stayed asleep beside me and when he started to stir, Varda and Námo said farewell and disappeared.

 

"I thought I heard you talking to someone," Maglor said, his eyes only half open. "Has Manwë been here again?"

 

"He has been and gone," I smiled.

 

"I wish he would leave you alone," my only one said and snuggled into my side.

 

I put both my arms around Maglor and kissed his lips. "Meleth, Varda healed me." It is most strange but normally I can heal myself; however, it seems that when a Valar is involved, like the warped Nienna, it becomes most difficult, if not impossible. I suppose it is also to remind me that I am always at their mercy. Maybe they turned a blind eye to my activities in Middle-earth or maybe they took a vicarious thrill from the endless battles and privations that I forced upon the elves. Maybe they are just as bad as me.

 

My skin was fresh and soft, so much so that when I touched it the feeling was of the softest down and not a proper surface at all. That was my gift from Varda; I daresay her husband would have given me scales and shedding plaques if he had healed me first.

 

We made love, of course. There is no one in Valinor that I love except for my only one. He is the light that catches Ithil and the stars, and I will always be his. No one compares to Maglor and none are fit to even kiss his feet. I love him with all of my black and twisted heart and it shall forever be so.

 

"I suppose I have to go and see Erestor," I said to Maglor as I dried off after our shared bath. We embraced and I kissed Maglor's mouth. "I do not want to see him. I would rather spend the time with you. He is a dank cesspit compared to you my fragrant one."

 

Maglor smiled and kissed my lips. "I wish he had never existed. He is one of the nastiest creatures I have ever met."

 

"Manwë has made him a garden," I said. "I do not know how secure it is so I want you to wear your weapons if he does manage to escape. I could not bear to lose you."

 

"If he attacks me, I will kill him," Maglor said defiantly. "I do not care how much of a special pet he is to Manwë, if the little shit attacks me he will die. It is as simple as that."

 

"I am almost hoping that Erestor does escape, even though Manwë will probably torture me to within an inch of my life. It will be worth it to be free of his pestilence." I kissed my only one and smiled.

 

"I had not thought of that," Maglor said. "I do not want you to be tortured again."

 

"If Erestor escapes then it will be Manwë's fault for not making the garden secure. He can hardly blame me or you for killing Erestor in self-defence, can he?" I reasoned.

 

"He can do anything he bloody well likes," Maglor shot back. "He doesn't even listen to reason and will do what he wants anyway."

 

"Have no fear, meleth," I whispered as I kissed his neck. "I will do what I can to make everything go smoothly."

 

We made love again. I cannot keep my hands off Maglor, he is my indulgence and I adore him. Afterwards, we dressed and left our rooms together. Maglor went to the beach to do his morning axe throwing, and I walked along to Erestor's rooms.

 

"I am informed by Manwë that Ikebana Boy now has a garden," I said to the elf looking through the spy hole in the door leading to Erestor's rooms.

 

"Yes, my Lord," he replied. "There is a new door leading from his rooms. There are no side doors." I am extremely happy that there was no side door leading from the garden; it would have been an avenue of escape and I would have feared for my only one.

 

The elf unlocked the door and I walked through. Normally Erestor attacks me whenever I enter his rooms, but this time he lay on his bed and seemed fast asleep. How odd, I thought and was immediately suspicious. He could play his game, but I looked upon it as an opportunity to look in the garden without him.

 

I walked through the door into a sunny garden that was mainly comprised of lawn and flowerbed. A stone seat was to one side and a fountain played in the centre. There were no walls and I could see the beach beyond. Walking over the flowerbeds to the sand beyond I hit an invisible barrier. In the distance Maglor threw his axes and so I called out to him in greeting. He could not hear me, no matter how loudly I shouted. The barrier extended all the way around the garden and I was satisfied that Erestor could not escape. The little shit was in the garden with me; I could feel him.

 

Turning swiftly, I avoided the large piece of wood Erestor aimed at my head. My hands turned into claws and I became the dread creature that had terrorised so many in Middle-earth. Erestor stood looking at me, unable to move in his terror. It made me feel so happy. "You will not aim a strike at me again," I roared. Erestor backed away as I stepped nearer to him, and then he ran back to his rooms slamming the door shut.

 

After returning to my original form I walked up to the door and tried to open it. How amusing it was that Erestor had his whole weight against it to stop me from entering. I waved my hand and the door swung open with such rapidity that Erestor was propelled across the room.

 

I knelt down by the half-wit elf who was rubbing his head and whining that I had hurt him. "Manwë has made me aware of a different method of torture, Erestor," I said to him. "You are too recalcitrant and refusing to cooperate and so I intend using it the next time you misbehave."

 

Erestor was astonished, and so he should have been. He was a master of torture and knew full well what it could do and how painful it was. "What do you intend?" he said, the words barely coming out because of his fear.

 

"I saw the lead boot in your brain but could not quite work out why it was an instrument of torture until Manwë showed me that pouring hot metal in was the reason it was so feared." Erestor's eyes widened in fear. "I am fully prepared to do that to you. I am sure you could make a living as a beggar because you have no lower legs, when you are eventually released. Glorfindel might pity you and drop a few coins in your hat as he walks past with his new lover." I smiled and picked him up by his arm and took him over to his bed. "I would prefer that you decided to get better and stopped resisting me. If you did, your time here would be shorter and you might even be able to win back Glorfindel's heart." He did not know that Glorfindel pined for him. Erestor had more or less accepted that the blond idiot must have a new lover because I had told him so many times that was the case. I am not known as the, 'Lord of Deception and Lies' for nothing.

 

"I thought there would never be any escape from here except death," Erestor said to me.

 

"If you died here your fëa would be sent into the void because it is so corrupt. The only other way to get out of here is to cooperate." I made it as plain as I could. "This is your last chance."

 

"How can I trust you?"

 

"You cannot, but what do you have to lose?" I smiled. "Come, you have a new garden. Wouldn't you like to sit outside with Anor shining upon your face?"

 

How I detest having to be nice to elves!


	35. On the Nature of Lies and Infidelity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manwe has told Maglor that he had sex with Sauron.

Erestor and I walked into the garden. Through the invisible barrier we could see Maglor still throwing his axes.

 

"He cannot see or hear us," I said to Erestor, pre -empting the question I knew would issue from his lips.

 

"Why does he do that?" Erestor asked.

 

"Old habits die hard," I replied. "He was once a warrior."

 

"I was once a warrior," Erestor told me. "The whole point of Valinor and coming home was that we did not have to be warriors anymore."

 

"A lesson that you should have taken to heart," I replied. "How many times have you tried to use your warrior skills on me? Just like Maglor, you never stopped being a warrior in all the time you were in Middle-earth."

 

Erestor sighed and sat down on the stone seat. "What happens now?" he asked.

 

"I work my way through your memories and change them; hopefully I can find your repressed conscience and you can tell me what memories make you feel guilty and then I can alter them." That was the plan, whether it worked or not I could not tell but it was the best I had.

 

"I do not have a conscience," Erestor told me. "I have never felt guilty for anything that I have ever done. You are wasting your time looking for it."

 

"Manwë has told me that you do have a conscience, so repressed that it will be difficult to find, but it exists nonetheless."

 

"I do not know if I want to feel guilty about all the things in my life. I have done so much that if I had a conscience I do not think I could live with myself." Erestor's conscience was there, he had unwittingly proved it in his statement. "At the moment I feel good about everything I ever did."

 

"I understand," I told him. "Would it surprise you to know that I had a conscience?" I hoped Erestor would not regard my admission as a mark of changed feeling towards him. How I hate those horrid bonding scenarios where confidences are exchanged and a brief, transient friendship is formed; elves seem to love them, so it's no wonder that they are regarded as weak.

 

"You?" Erestor scorned.

 

"I only have a conscience with regards to how I treated Maglor, but it still is one of sorts." I smiled to put Erestor at his ease because it was necessary to gain his trust and not because I had any altruistic feelings towards him.

 

"I do not have one. I did things to Glorfindel that I should not have done and I do not feel bad about it at all, and yet I think that if I did have a conscience I could not live with myself or accept his forgiveness." Erestor looked troubled and I wondered if he had lied and was starting to feel bad about what he had done, especially when considering the potential consequences, or he was concerned because he could feel nothing.

 

"I will leave you now and visit again tomorrow morning," I said and stood up. "Stay in the garden as long as you please." I was satisfied that he could not escape, although it would be typical of Manwë to let him do so. It mattered not; Erestor did not have his more recent and most dangerous fighting abilities anymore, and he had also seen Maglor practising. It was a risk I felt we could take.

 

I walked away, through Erestor's rooms and onto the beach near Maglor. I should have been able to see the new garden but all I saw was the side of the house. The garden did not exist to anyone except Erestor, the guard elves and me, and that was only when we opened the door from his rooms. The walls could not be climbed because they would rise up forever and it would always be sunny there, such is the nature of an illusion.

 

Maglor challenged me to a match. "I have never seen you throw axes," he said to me and handed me three of them; he seemed a little on edge but I disregarded it. "See if you can hit the target over there. I doubt if you can because you never practise. You really should you know. No using your powers either."

 

I threw the axes and they hit the target, all three lined up against the other. I hoped Maglor was impressed. "I am a Maia," I explained to my only one who accused me of cheating. "The axe will go wherever I want it to and that is without using my powers. I simply have to look at the target as I throw."

 

"I still think that is cheating," he muttered.

 

"Meleth," I said, catching his wrist as he stormed off. "Why do you think that Maia are so unbeatable? If it made you happy I would miss every time."

 

"Don't bother," Maglor said and shook his wrist free of my hand.

 

Something was clearly awry. I used my powers to pull him backward and caught hold of arms. "You will tell me what is wrong," I said softly in his ear. "This is most unlike you."

 

He could not shake free of me. I led him to a small clump of rocks near where the waves lapped on the shore and we sat in front of them. I did not want Erestor watching us argue from his garden. We sat together and Maglor made sure there was space between us. He would not talk and when I tried to hold his hand he pushed me away. "I cannot believe you did what you did," he said to me.

 

"I am sorry that my axes hit the target," I replied somewhat ironically.

 

"It is not about the axes," Maglor spat.

 

"Then what?" I asked, my temperament changing to one of repressed anger. "I cannot think of anything that I have done. Certainly nothing to cause the foul mood you are in."

 

"You had sex with Manwë; he told me," Maglor said, his voice breaking with the betrayal he thought I had done to him.

 

"When?" I asked.

 

"You know when," he said loudly. "Don't even think that I will fall for your lies."

 

"Do you mean when I was tortured?" I asked.

 

"Yes, apparently, until the last bit where your skin was whipped away, you enjoyed it very much." Maglor went to rise and I pulled him back down. He looked extremely angry with me.

 

"No, Meleth," I said, trying to hold my temper. "I have never, ever had sex with Manwë. Not consensual that is. During the torture he raped me and that is the only time he has ever touched me."

 

"I do not believe you," Maglor said. "Why would Manwë lie to me?"

 

"He is not lying," I replied. "He is being exceedingly selective about the truth and how he delivers it. I can assure you that I did not enjoy any of the ordeal and I find it remarkable that you would think I did."

 

"So what happened?" he hissed, still looking angrily at me.

 

"Manwë cuffed my wrists to the wall and then he whipped me; that is how I lost the skin on my chest and back. Then two elves put my feet in metal boots that were so heavy I could not move them and Manwë poured molten metal into them. I only had stumps of charred bone left and my thighs were burnt where the flames from the metal caught them alight. I assure you there was nothing enjoyable about any of that. To compound what had already gone before, Manwë raped me, and then said he owned me inside and out. I screamed so hard I bit my tongue in half. That is what your precious Lord of Airs is; he is me as I was on Middle-earth." The anger showed on my face and Maglor looked warily at me. "I have never poured molten metal on anyone though."

 

"I am certain that I can see feet at the end of your legs, and you manage to talk to me, and..."

 

"He cured me so that I felt every bit of pain again, but in reverse. He even tried to console me as I screamed and yelled. Believe me if I could have managed to flee I would have done; there was nothing enjoyable about any of it." I held Maglor's hand tight, so hard it must have been painful. "He refused to heal my back and chest because it would be a constant reminder of his torture of me. I swear this by the Lady Varda who healed my back and chest without any pain at all. She was here this morning with Manwë and Námo."

 

"You are for it if Elbereth hears you taking her name in vain," Maglor accused.

 

What did I have to do to reassure my silly elf husband? "I am quite prepared to say what I have told you in front of the Lady Varda if need be."

 

"Then why would he say that?" Maglor asked. "Manwë is not the lord of Lies, you are."

 

"I never lie to you," I said, feeling somewhat hurt at Maglor's viciousness. "You are the one who I always tell the truth to. You are my marker and standard so that I never get lost. If I had sex with Manwë then I would not deserve you because it would mean that I did not love you anymore. I am repulsed that he did this to me. I am more than ready to repeat what I have said in front of the Lady Varda." We sat saying nothing for a few minutes and then I asked when Manwë had told him.

 

"While you were with Erestor," he replied.

 

"I once was indiscreet with Manwë's wife, well before I was seduced by Melkor. When she appeared this morning and told me that she would heal my wounds he was not pleased. I feel that he acted purely out of spite." I hoped this would be enough for Maglor.

 

"Why would he try to hurt me?" Maglor said angrily. "I have done nothing to cause his anger."

 

"No, indeed you have not," a voice said behind me. It was the Lady Varda. "And yet my husband threatened to take your life if Sauron gave him cause to punish him again."

 

Maglor looked shocked. I had hoped that he would never know that his life had been threatened. He knew now and I could feel the fear rolling off him. "Why did you not tell me," he whispered as if grief had already set in.

 

"Because I love you," I replied and put my arm around him. "You would not have believed me anyway."

 

"Maglor," the Lady Varda said. "I am your protector and nothing can happen to you. You would do as well to believe the one who is your soul mate; however if Sauron does ever lie to you then I will make you aware."

 

"But why would Manwë threaten me so?" Maglor asked looking as if he had been betrayed, which in fact he had. One expects the Lord of Airs to be all that is shining and good. Instead he is flawed; good is on his side but he is still touched by evil. It was not always that way; when Melkor was kicked into the Void the whole of Arda went into an imbalance, and so Manwë had to allow some evil into his fëa to restore the equilibrium. Perhaps he allowed too much into his fëa, who knows.

 

"Sauron can tell you. Remember, I am the one who will protect you from all that would seek to harm you. I must depart, but be light of heart, ion of Fëanor, your husband has not been unfaithful to you," the Lady Varda said and disappeared from our sight. I think I love that Vala!

 

"I am sorry," Maglor said to me.

 

I held him close. I wanted to ask him how he thought that I could even do the things he had accused me of, but I let it go and said nothing because I knew deep in my heart that I was so evil it was easy to believe anything of me. We sat by the rocks, watching the dolphins playing in the sea and a single lone crab scrabbling sideways across the wet sand. The tide was coming in and I took Maglor's hand. It was time to go home.


	36. How Many Ways Can an Elf Drown?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron reflects on the differences between his killing and Erestor's.

"You held an elfling's head under the water until he drowned, and then said that he was like it when you passed him," I enquired of Erestor as he lay strapped on the bed in the mind reading room.

"There was no one around watching so I thought that I would," Erestor replied and grinned as if it were a pleasant memory.

"Was there any particular reason?" I asked.

"None at all," Erestor replied. "I felt like killing him. We were always told not to go near the fountains in case we drowned, and so I wanted to see what it was like with my own eyes. I remember him putting up the most remarkable struggle."

I felt for more memories and what I found did not shock me because it was Erestor, but I was mildly surprised all the same. "He was your best friend."

"Unfortunate for him, eh?" Erestor cackled with laughter.

I am not going to judge Erestor because Valar knows I have done much worse than him; however, I found his extreme callousness rather distasteful. Whenever I killed I did it for a reason; that is if my captives were elves; men did not get any such consideration as I never thought of them as anything other than orc meat, indeed a wolf is more loyal than a man.

I remember when I lived in Middle-earth; men who were not afraid of death or to die, and believe me they are two completely different things, were formidable in their strength. Tar-Minastir's army drove my forces out of Eriador even though they suffered heavy losses. Who can beat an army whose only fear is the consequence of defeat for those whom they love? Armies like that tend to glorify personal sacrifice, where in reality there is no personal glory in dying at all; the only reward is the freedom of the fëa as it breaks free from the cares of existence and knows true peace for the first time. I wonder though why men bother; they only live until they are about sixty years old, a mere spit in the wind.

Men are so easy to seduce, and there lies their downfall. I seduced Ar-Pharazôn whilst appearing to submit to his authority; it was a Valar sent opportunity in encouraging the Númenoreans to destroy themselves. How easy it was to persuade them to sail on Valinor. Ar-Pharazôn thought that I was his trustworthy slave and that I was truly humble and beaten; he lost everything. I still have happy memories of their folly, though unlike Erestor, I do not to boast about it. I deplore Erestor's lack of breeding; modesty is always a most becoming virtue, even in one such as I, who is erroneously suspected to have none at all. Can one help having an awesome and overpowering presence?

The elves have always been far more troublesome because they are not so easy to turn from what is good and true. Perhaps that depends on where one is standing, as I have always found them to be a rather duplicitous and conniving lot who praise their foolhardy heroes in songs and weep as they sing about how I captured their favourite ones and killed them. If some jumped up elf lord mounts a stand against me, I feel that I am well within my rights to kill him and not be judged, especially if he marches upon my house. Some things simply will not do and are inexcusable.

I felt Erestor's head again and new memories surfaced. "You were always very respectful to your parents," I said, somewhat amazed as I had pictured him being a rather wayward elfling. In his memories, Erestor was quiet and studious, the very model of good behaviour. "Were you good as an elfling or is that how you choose to remember yourself?"

"I learned very early that if I was the perfectly behaved elfling at home then any complaints about me would be dismissed." Erestor smiled as he told me.

"Were you bullied as an elfling?" I asked. I already knew the answer but I wanted to know if Erestor was being truthful with me.

"I was never bullied," he answered. "Who would have dared?"

Very quickly, Erestor had gained the reputation of being viciously spiteful and secretive. His parents, ever ready to defend their model ion, never took the accusations seriously and blamed it upon the jealousy of others as Erestor was an exceedingly becoming elfling who caught the eye of whoever glanced at him.

"Which of these memories do you feel it would be most propitious to change?"

"I do not know," Erestor replied. "I would say the moment where I drowned my only playmate, but if ever I meet him again he might accuse me and I would not be able to defend myself; knowledge is power after all."

"The elf in question was reborn in Mithlond and drowned in a tidal wave," I smirked as I remembered treating him years before. "Then he was reborn in Lothlórien, and after falling from a tree and hitting his head on a branch halfway down, he landed face downwards in a puddle and drowned again."

"I sense a pattern forming here," Erestor tittered.

"That is not all," I informed him. "In his next life he was living in Mirkwood and fell asleep on his back beside a stream whilst in a state of extreme drunkenness. During the night there was a heavy downpour and the stream swelled into a fast flowing river; however, after reading his brain it was obvious to me that the rain from the downpour fell into his open mouth, flowed into his lungs and drowned him before the river swept him away. He was so drunk that he was not able to rouse himself."

 

"Serve him right," Erestor laughed. "I wish I had been there to see it."

 

"Would you have helped him?"

 

Erestor looked at me as if I was stupid. "No of course not," he said scornfully.

 

I continued. "Your victim was reborn once more after that in Imladris. In a freak kitchen accident he slipped over, hit his head against a large stone sink and fell to the floor. Unfortunately, he drowned in the dog's water bowl, which he had just filled."

Erestor howled with laughter. He was helpless. It was rather amusing, but Erestor is not here to enjoy himself, and so I reminded him pretty sharply that he had to make a decision. He decided that he wanted that particular event wiped, even though it was a treasured memory. "If I do not remember these events then I might not repeat them in future and Glorfindel will love me again," he said. "If he is with another I will have to kill them, whoever they are, you know that don't you?"

That sounded reasonable to me but I was not going to condone anything. It would be typical of such a weasel like elf to say that I had urged him to do it. He is a sly one, but I am more than adequate in handling his deceit. The elves are a most devious race and so his thoughts are typical. They give battle on an intellectual as well as a physical basis and their left hand never knows what their right hand is doing. However, they are also predictable because they lack imagination, which is how I managed to remain a thorn in the side of them all for so long. Their use of intelligence has made them a more satisfying enemy, but they never learned when to leave well alone and so they deserved all they got.

I placed my hands on Erestor's head. He maintains a high standard of cleanliness, which made it more bearable. I remember holding Amras' head; his hair was matted and dirty after many years of hiding out in caves. Apparently he used to jump out whilst naked, in front of passing elves and then run away laughing. He was totally mad and absolutely terrified of baby rabbits. After touching his hair, I scraped myself hands clean with oil and a sharp stone. Amras is still filthy in his habits even though he is cured and lives a relatively normal life in a house of his own. I can only think that it must be personal preference as his twin, Amrod, is meticulously clean.

I digress. I gave Erestor the memory of finding his little playmate already dead in the fountain. He will remember the horror he felt and will blame himself for not walking past earlier. He will feel that maybe he could have saved his little friend, which is most delicious considering that he really could have done so in reality. He has a well repressed conscience, which he has already unwittingly proved to me, so hopefully that will make his conscience area grow somewhat so it becomes easier to locate. Lastly, I took away all memory of the session so that he could not remember what he asked for.

After all was finished I told Erestor to sleep and he did. It is a trick I employ with full success; all elves and animals fall for it, even when they resist. The servants took him back to his room where he awoke later. In the meantime I went to see Maglor.

On the long sofa in our living room, up one end, sat my only one drawing a still life of two apples and a banana with the mithril quill I bought him for his last begetting day. I sat next to him and he looked at me and smiled. "I do not think that I can survive being nice to Erestor all the time when I so want to hurt him," I said wearily.

He put his drawing and charcoal down and patted his lap. "Come, lay your head."

I did not need to be told twice. A quick swivel of my hips and my feet were up on the cushions and my head in my only one's lap. He ran his fingers through my hair and massaged my scalp. It was bliss, and like Maglor, it was perfect.


	37. The Argument in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manwe and Varda argue.

"Why do you suppose you are so evil?" I asked Erestor as we sat on the stone bench. I maintained a few inches between us; being so close to any elf makes my skin crawl unless it is Maglor, of course!

 

 

"I don't know," he replied. "I was not evil as an elfling so something must have happened to me after that."

 

 

Yes Erestor, you were an incredibly evil elfling but I successfully removed your memories. "We will have to keep searching your mind to find the answer," I told him.

 

 

"Are you sure you are any good at this?" Erestor asked irritably. "You do not seem to be getting anywhere fast."

 

 

How I wanted to snap his ungrateful neck. "You have lived many thousands of years and carried out the most breathtaking acts of evil," I told him. "How do you expect me to sort through your malevolent and spiteful brain in just a few months?"

 

 

"I thought you were good at this," Erestor taunted. "You are nothing but an amateur. I bet when you have sex you have to look at an instruction leaflet every single time; that's how amateur you are." He would learn that taunting me was a mistake not to be repeated.

 

 

I placed my hand around Erestor's neck and squeezed. His eyes started to bulge and he fought to breathe. Frantic hands scrabbled against mine to try and pull my fingers away. "Have a care not to anger me too much, Erestor," I hissed. My teeth elongated so that I looked like a vampire and my fingers became harsh talons. I growled and Erestor's mouth opened in a silent scream. Then I let him go and sneered at his watering eyes. "Crying like a baby, Erestor?" I taunted as he coughed, trying to catch his breath. "Erestor, the King of Evil has met his match, or should I say that he has met his nemesis?"

 

 

Erestor continued to cough and splutter. I knew that his throat was seriously bruised and that if I had pressed any harder it would have been damaged forever. I hoped that he would be more cooperative and mindful of his speech in future. If he were not then he was truly a simpleton.

 

 

"I can't breathe," Erestor croaked in a satisfyingly hoarse voice.

 

 

"Well obviously you can," I replied. "You would not be able to cough or whine if you couldn't."

 

 

He looked at me, his eyes filled with hate. "I hope you die horribly."

 

 

"Even if I did, the Valar would still require me to cure you," I laughed horribly and was rather pleased to see the chills run down Erestor's back. "I am the bane of your existence and always will be while you are here. You are like a small doggy, Erestor; if you are good I will reward you and if you are bad then I will punish you, and you will learn to modify your behaviour. Stop coughing while I talk to you or else you will suffer even more."

 

 

I cannot abide coughing, even if it is necessary. I hardly ever cough myself and do not see why others should indulge themselves in such attention seeking behaviour. Erestor tried to stop coughing and was not able to, so I sent him to bed without any food or drink until the next day.

 

 

"Do not feed him," I told the elf looking through the spy hole in the door. "He has had a rather self indulgent coughing fit and he is being punished for it."

 

 

"Yes, my Lord," he replied and then continued looking through the spy hole.

 

 

I found Maglor in the long gallery which overlooks the mountains. The doors to the wide semi-circular balcony were open, allowing a gentle wild flower perfumed breeze to waft into the house.

 

 

"Meleth," I said and took his hands in mine. "Erestor has incurred my wrath and if I had the option I would kill him; I had to terrorise him instead."

 

 

"He is the bane of our existence," Maglor said to me. "It will not be forever though." He kissed my lips and stroked my cheek. "Come listen at the door."

 

 

"Listen to what?" I asked my delicious one.

 

 

"Lord Manwë and the Lady Elbereth are arguing in the skies. It is quite distant and I cannot understand what they are saying, but it is their voices I hear." Maglor's eyes shone with undisguised glee; how I adore him.

 

 

We stood at the door and I heard them yelling at one another. I could understand what they were saying and the gist of it was that Manwë still had not forgiven his wife for the series of affairs she had with several Maia, he screeched that having to be civil to me rankled within him to such a point that he wanted to kill me. "If I had not promised to never send him back through the void that is where he would go." He then told her that he had enjoyed torturing me.

 

 

"Liar," the glorious Lady accused. "Your heart betrays you. You wanted Sauron for yourself and Melkor jumped in while you prevaricated. If I did not have breasts and possessed a huge cock then you would not be able to stay away from me. No wonder I looked elsewhere."

 

 

"How dare you!" he yelled at her. "You act like a whore opening your legs for anyone."

 

 

There was an ear splitting thunderclap when I assume Varda slapped Manwë across the face. I heard him calling her irrational and hysterical.

 

 

"Guess what, my love?" she said in a taunting voice.

 

 

"What?" he barked.

 

 

"I had your brother as well, although nearly every Valar and Maia has received the rather generous attentions of your brother. Mmmm...he is a stallion, so wild, and such energy!"

 

 

The argument continued and I knew then that my torture was not about how I had talked to Manwë. In a small way it was about having sex with his wife many thousands of years before, and well before the elves were awakened. However, it was also about letting his brother seduce me before he was able to. I was punished for not being his, and that is why he had held onto me as I screamed in agony at the end of the torture when he had snapped out of his temper and looked at me as the one he still felt affection for. No wonder he threatened to kill Maglor; if Manwë could not have me he did not want any one else to, and that is the reason he told my love the semi-lie about having sex with me; he hoped to sow the seeds of mistrust and destroy our love forever. This meant that mine and Maglor's marriage was not his idea, for who can give up one they secretly yearn for? Intuitively, I knew that Varda had forced his hand and made him decree that I should love another and that was why he was so angry with her.

 

 

"Can you make out what they are saying?" Maglor asked me.

 

 

"They are speaking in an archaic language not known to the elves," I replied. "They are arguing about Manwë torturing me," My only one did not need to know all of it. Because he had treated me with suspicion, accusing me of lying to him several days before, I thought it would be a mistake to tell him everything they said.

 

 

"I wish they would leave us alone," Maglor said and put his arm around me

 

 

"I do too," I said and looked in his eyes before kissing his sweet lips. "For some reason, the Valar are very interested in both of us and life may become dangerous for us. We need to trust and love one another like never before so that we survive their attentions."

 

 

"Who can defeat a Valar?" Maglor whispered as if he thought they could hear.

 

 

"Another Valar," I replied. "No Maia is strong enough."

 

 

"If you are killed then I will die too," Maglor said to me in a horrified tone.

 

 

"I am sure it will not reach that point," I reassured him. "But we have to trust one another. There must be no doubt between us."

 

 

"You are talking about the other day..."

 

 

"I am talking about every time Manwë will try to split us up and sow the seeds of mistrust; believe me, he will try it again." I held Maglor tight, breathing in his scent. "Manwë will lie to me about you and I will not believe him, even if he shows me evidence. I will know he has manufactured it himself because I am in your focus every minute of the day and you would find it impossible to love another."

 

 

"That is why I was so upset," he said. "I love you so much that I felt pain in my heart and it was unbearable."

 

 

"Meleth," I said softly. "I adore you. The only one in my heart is you and that will remain so for eternity. If there is any existence after infinity then we will still be entwined forever."

 

 

He smiled and we kissed. In the distance we heard a crash that sounded as though the whole of the continent was about to split in half. The house shook and Maglor clung onto me as we both fell to the floor. All went quiet and we wondered what it could mean.

 

 

The Lady Varda materialised in front of me, her hand holding onto her unconscious husband's hair. "Before he wakes up, Sauron," she said to me, whilst examining her swollen knuckles. "I want you to go into his mind and remove all the negative memories he has of me, and you might like to alter his memories of you too. Doing so could save your life and Maglor's also."

 

 

Sometimes opportunity is handed on a plate!


	38. The Opportunity of Several Lifetimes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron explores Manwe's mind.

"My Lady, what if Lord Manwë wakes whilst I am sorting through his memories?" I asked. I did not want to repeat the torture session that I had endured recently.

 

"If he comes around I will put him back to sleep again," Varda replied and unconsciously clenched her fists.

 

Maglor put a pillow under Manwë's head and I put my fingers to his scalp. The mind of a Valar is not like that of an elf. The whole of being is encapsulated in a tiny space, and I had to be careful not to alter too much as it could unravel the very nature of all our woven existence. The Lady Varda was placing great trust in me; however, I knew that there was no hiding anything from her. She would know every minute change and every thought that I possessed; she was already present within my head and talking to me. Maglor suspected nothing and I am glad he did not; I would not want him to suffer anymore hurt or suspicion.

 

"I want my husband to desire me, Sauron." I almost felt sympathy for the Lady. I tried but it is not in my nature so I gave up. "I want him to love me. I am not a possession and I want to be his wife in the truest sense of the word."

 

Námo appeared beside me. "Be careful, Sauron. If you go too far, I will stop you." I cannot understand why after all this time the Valar continue to mistrust me, but there it is.

 

"I intend keeping to the personal memories of Lady Varda and Lord Manwë's infidelities," I replied.

 

"Careful," Varda warned.

 

"I am not making judgement, my Lady," I replied. "But that is what I am looking for so that all memories of it do not exist anymore.

 

Maglor stared in surprise and I looked behind my shoulder. The rest of the Valar, including old fish-face Ulmo, were standing behind me; the Vala of the waters thought he was being rather impressive balancing on his scaly tail. "Take no notice of them," Varda said through our connection. "I think they want certain memories removed as well."

 

"You and I first," I said through the connection.

 

"Absolutely," she replied and I suspected that she grinned as she thought it.

 

Manwë's mind was vast, as if the whole of eternity existed there, the future as well as the past. I found the memories and sorted through them. "Stop thinking that there is much to blackmail with, Sauron," Varda said sharply through our connection. "Get on with it."

 

"My Lady," I replied. "You would suspect me even more if I did not. I am a Dark Lord, after all."

 

"Hopefully that will change," she replied. "I already see shades of grey in the darkness."

 

"Then I shall have to try harder at being evil, my Lady," I said with a twinkle and she giggled. Like all Dark Lords, I am charm personified.

 

The memory of Manwë and Varda's wedding night at the very eve of the dawn of being was the memory I found first. Varda was embarrassed when Manwë's memories revealed that sexually they were incompatible. He kept his eyes shut, consummated the marriage by imagining she was male and then he rolled over and went to sleep. When Varda protested she was told that she was lucky to get even that. I would have severely punished him if I was her, but all she did was to turn away and cry.

 

"You are showing compassion," Varda teased.

 

"Let's not tell Maglor, he would despise me for it," I joked, but part of me meant it.

 

I changed the memory to one of supreme joy. "My Lady, would you like this memory too?" I asked. "All I have to do is touch your forehead and it is done."

 

"All it takes is one deviation and I will take your life," Námo warned me.

 

"Yes, yes, yes..." I said as if bored, yet fully aware that he could carry out his threat in a blink of an eye.

 

Varda was delighted. "That is a much nicer memory," she said. "If only it were really like that."

 

"I can make it so from now on," I assured her and went to where Manwë's preferences were stored. I could not take anything away but I could certainly make additions. I gave him a deep and profound love for his wife. Now they would both know the closeness and joy that I feel every day because of my love for Maglor.

 

"Eru offered to alter that part of Manwë's song, when I petitioned him to intervene," Varda said, her voice breaking as she was overcome with emotion. "He refused and my heart was broken."

 

There was nothing to say. I worked my way through his memories of all the elves and Maia he had shared his body with and removed all except the desire he had felt for them. In his mind he had resisted because he loved his wife and was proud of having done so.

 

"Let the memory of when he raped you stay in his mind," Varda said. "Let him feel the guilt of his unjust punishment of you so that he can make amends."

 

I would rather the memory be removed, but she was adamant. It could be useful, but was still a blow to my pride. I sorted through his memories and eliminated the ones that Varda directed I should remove, and replaced them with innocuous versions of the same event. I could not go too far with regards to myself as too much had happened of a high profile nature; however, the jealousy and the memories of the dalliance with his wife disappeared at my touch. It was as far as I could go if he was not to ponder how I was his slave, instead of free. Now he will be left with the memory of the injustices he has done to me and will have no idea why he felt that way. Maybe he will feel guilty, but I suspect it will be of a fleeting nature, because Manwë has the capacity to be as bad as me even though he is inherently good.

 

I am rather proud of my history. I was the supreme Dark Lord of Middle-earth for millennia and I am not about to let Manwë think I was anything but that. I do not want him thinking that I was benevolent and interested in the protection and safety of the elven race like that repulsive Gandalf was. How I laughed when I was informed by my minions that he was killed by the balrog. He deserved a terrible death purely for having such a ridiculous disguise and a scabby beard. Saruman was no better and had even less common sense than Gandalf. He also affected the mask of an old man and thought he could rival me; even when it was too late to resist me he would not give up. I never appeared as anything other than myself. I am of gorgeous appearance. My eyes reflected my deep-seated and stunning capacity for evil; I consider them my best feature. Why would I make myself ugly when elves, men and other Maia can fear my beauty instead?

 

How delicious it was when human captives saw me for the first time. I was so beautiful they thought I had come to rescue them. They never could connect that one with such a beatific face could be so malevolent. The elves were not so easily fooled and recognised me straight away. To them it was a corruption of all that was right, that I should be so stunningly attractive, and yet be so ghastly at the same time. It made getting up every morning so worthwhile.

 

 

In the end there was nothing more I could change without upsetting the balance of all our reality. Even I know it is a precarious and potentially irreversibly dangerous thing to do. I fear ever losing Maglor, and so I would not even attempt to go too far; it could end with his non-existence and yet I would know in my heart he had been there.

 

There came a litany of requests from the other Valar afterwards and to keep their silence I indulged them with Varda looking on to make sure I did exactly as they asked of me. Ulmo asked that Manwë approve of his affair with Cirdan and give him the ability to breathe underwater. That was easy to do, although why Cirdan would want to live with someone who was half a fish and stank of seaweed was beyond me.

 

Oromë and Vàna, and Yavanna and Aulë wanted children of their own. Manwë had previously denied them permission and so I made him more open to their request so that he would at least consider letting them have what they most desired. Estë and Lórien requested that their gardens have an area unseen to all except them so that they could have privacy in what is now an open area. Manwë had previously denied their request because they would be hidden to him too. Tulkas and Nessa requested that they were able to dance in the land of dreams as well as on Valinor. Lórien had offered them this in the past but Manwë had ridiculed the idea and so it went no further. Even I smiled at the thought of the warlike Tulkas dancing with his wife beyond the realms of reality.

 

I looked up at Námo, "My Lord, is there any request you would make of me?"

 

"I ask nothing for myself," he replied. "However, I would ask that you learn from this great gift Varda has given you and find it in your heart to think of others than yourself and Maglor."

 

"I do not know if I can," I said truthfully.

 

"Then I will accompany you within your dreams," Lórien said from behind me. "I ask nothing for myself either, and as it is part of your rehabilitation here you cannot refuse."

 

"An excellent idea," Varda said to me. "It can only help you."

 

"But, my Lady, I like being evil," I said weakly. I was in a room full of Valar who could turn hostile in an instant.

 

"I know you do and we are not asking you to be anything else. What we want to avoid is you trying to be the Dark Lord of Valinor in the future."

 

Well that is a relief. I had no intention of ever being Dark Lord of Valinor. War takes too much time to plan and organise, and I think my husband would disapprove if I showed him less than one-hundred percent of my devotion. It is enough having to spend time with the repulsive and vile Erestor.

 

Manwë woke shortly after, and as he did the other Valar disappeared; Maglor and I backed out of the room. "What happened?" he said looking a tad confused.

 

"We were having an argument and I am afraid that I hit you," Varda said truthfully.

 

"Why would we argue, melethen?" Manwë asked.

 

"You were horrid to me," Varda said and a small tear dripped from her left eye. What an actress she is! One can only admire her.

 

"I do not remember," Manwë said. "Come here and let me hold you. You know I do not like to see you cry."

 

She sat in his arms and he stroked her hair. "Dry your eyes now," he said softly as he kissed her lips. "I apologise for being horrid, especially as I love you so much. From now on I am going to spoil you and make you incredibly happy so that I never have to see you cry again."

 

We walked away, and in the distance I heard Manwë say, "Varda? Why are we in Sauron's library?"

 

Varda gave the reply that only she could have given: "Because you landed here, silly!"


	39. The Singing of a New Song.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manwe and Sauron discuss his future.

"I think everything should be all right now," I told Maglor. "Life should be easier."

 

"Are you allowed to tell me about it?" Maglor asked.

 

"I can tell you that Manwë will not hate me anymore and that he now adores his wife in the same way I do you." I smiled and ran my finger across his lips. Maglor's beauty never fails to move me. He is exquisite perfection and I adore him.

 

"You have not been to visit Ikebana Boy today," Maglor informed me, thoroughly spoiling the moment.

 

"I do not miss the irritating viper; I prefer to be with you instead," I replied and smiled. "Kiss me."

 

Just as our lips touched, the door burst open. "I need to see you alone," Manwë said to me. Maglor looked concerned, but Varda gave him a reassuring look from behind her husband.

 

"Come with me," I said to the Lord of Airs and walked out of the room. There was no way that I was going to let him talk to me in the living room. There was a huge display of flowers and a large bowl of fruit to tempt him. I was not going to watch him spitting pips over the highly polished table again or ruining the flower display by taking random blooms.

 

We went into my office where I compiled the records for all the elves I treated at the clinic. "Would you like some refreshment, Master?" I asked politely. I had no idea how his mood would be; his face was expressionless.

 

"No," he replied. "This will not take long." He asked how Erestor's treatment was progressing and if he was responding positively to the garden. I replied that he was delighted with the garden and was already looking for an avenue of escape. Manwë laughed. It was an uncomfortable laugh and then he struck. "Why did I rape and torture you?"

 

I had to be careful here, Manwë would remember that I was apparently disrespectful. "I believe it was because I used sarcasm in your presence."

 

"I would do all that to you for something so trivial?" he asked in a most disbelieving tone.

 

My face remained controlled. "Yes, Master."

 

"I raped you for sarcasm?" he said loudly, losing his temper.

 

I knew I had to give him a little more. "You accused me of having sex with your wife," I replied. "You also told Maglor, afterwards, that I enjoyed having sex with you."

 

"My wife would not touch you," he spat with contempt. "You obviously offered your body to me to stop the torture."

 

"What?" I asked, genuinely shocked.

 

"Why was I torturing you?" Manwë grabbed my throat. "You have been in my head, haven't you?"

 

"How could I go in your head?" I asked, wishing that Varda would interrupt and punch the daylights out of her husband again. "You lost your temper with me when I asked why you did not take the whole bunch of grapes. You were picking odd ones and spitting them instead of putting the pips in the waste basket."

 

"Yes, I remember," Manwë said. "You also derided my plans for Erestor and did not call me Master. That does not explain why I was so cruel to you. What is the real reason?"

 

"You told me that you enjoyed punishing as much as your brother enjoyed it," I sounded as though I was releasing some huge chunk of revealing information, but it was not that big really as it was already in his head. "You said you were punishing me because I am your slave and therefore I deserved to be whipped. You said: My recalcitrant, badly behaved slave, who thinks he is too good to address me by my title and presumes to think that I know nothing of his slanderous and ungrateful thoughts about me. Then you raped me saying that you now owned me inside and out. You tried to justify it by saying that I had done far worse, but I tell you I have never poured molten metal over anyone."

 

"Obviously it was in short supply near your strongholds," Manwë smirked.

 

"You told me that you did it to teach me never to oppose you, as you were far more powerful than I." My voice was soft and I looked at Manwë. I had told the truth, and as he remembered it. He was typical of a bully blaming the victim for the hurts inflicted upon him.

 

He sighed and sat opposite me. "You are right and I feel the need to explain somewhat. When you were pure and innocent, when you were Aulendil, I desired you." Silly me forgetting to remove that memory! "You caught the attention of my brother and I knew I had no chance. I do not like to admit this but I think that may have had something to do with the harshness of the punishment I meted out to you. I know that you have never had any relations with my wife, and I do not know why I accused you, except that I must have had a moment of madness or guilt about what I was doing."

 

"You are talking of events from before the elves awoke," I said softly. "Surely you would not hold a grudge for so long?"

 

"Why do you think that I never allowed any intervention on Middle-earth when you became the bane of all that was good? It was because you remained in my heart and I hoped that one day you would see the error of your ways so that you could come back here to live again. Remember how I tried to persuade you not to go into the void when you were judged after your final defeat? I had hoped that you would be rehabilitated and stay in Valinor. You were my temptation; all I can do is say how sorry I am that I hurt you so badly." He paused, sniffed and then continued. "I carry the guilt of your injustices towards the races of Middle-earth on my shoulders too."

 

"It is over," I said, reflecting that I still felt no guilt whatsoever except where Maglor was concerned. If I had not terrorised the races of Middle-earth then I might never have met Maglor, so it was all for the best really. "What is done, is done. I hope you do not still have a space for me in your heart because all of it should be occupied by your wife. There is no space in my heart for anyone but Maglor."

 

"I gave Maglor to you as your soul mate because it appealed to my sense of humour that the torturer should love his victim. Eru decided that my interest in you had gone on long enough and demanded that I remove you from my sights, which is why the marriage was arranged. I performed it in front of Melkor deliberately; it was the final blow for him. I now had what was his for my own; he seduced you into the ways of evil and I hoped to turn you and make you a force for good." Manwë looked at me. "I did not know that you and Maglor would both settle so well and not argue about the past. I thought that what happened before would break you both, and that is where I planned to take over and mould you into a better being, but nothing can be undone, can it?"

 

"Maglor always shared my bed since becoming my captive," I told Manwë. "You were giving me what I most desired anyway, he was always special and I have always loved him; I knew that as soon as I saw him here in Valinor even though I was not aware before. You turned Maglor's fear and hate into love."

 

"I do not want to discuss this anymore," Manwë told me. "Everything will go on as before and you will continue to be respectful; however, I will not punish you in that way again. You will be pleased to know that my desire for you does not seem to be as strong as it used to be. It might be that when I raped you it was not as fulfilling as I thought it would be." I raised an eyebrow and Manwë assured me that he did not mean it in an insulting way. He thought that the event had made him realise just how much he loved his wife.

 

"Master, have we finished?" I asked.

 

"You will call me Lord Manwë from now on," he replied. "I am your master. It is a small concession that I give you so that one day we can be friends and move away from the master/slave relationship. This will not last forever and one day you will have your freedom; Eru has already planned that part of the song of your life. Remember though that Eru's song can be unsung."

 

"Thank you, Lord Manwë," I said and allowed him a slight smile even though I was leaping for joy inside.

 

"I know I have hurt you, but let today be the first day of a new beginning," Manwë said and rose from his chair. "Come, my Lady and Maglor will be wondering if everything is all right."

 

I am still a slave but at least there is more hope than there was before.

 

Manwë and Varda said their farewells and then they were gone. I buried my head in Maglor's shoulder and sighed.

 

"Was it that bad?" Maglor asked as he stroked my head.

 

"It was worse," I replied enjoying the feeling. "I had to be careful about what I said as he tried to catch me out and blame me for his excess. I felt so close to being punished again."

 

"Now you know what it was like for me when you held me captive," Maglor said. It was the first time he had ever mentioned any of our past before.

 

I looked at my only one. "I am so sorry," I said to him and held his body in my arms. "I will do anything I can to make amends."

 

"You do every day," my only one said softly, and he stroked my head as I held him close. I bit my lip and held him tighter; I did not want him to see my face.


	40. The Quality of Life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor attempts suicide.

Life changed, even though Manwë said it would not. He treated me more as an equal, and even though I was not enamoured of him he at least became tolerable. Maglor and I became closer and Erestor slowly improved to the point that he made an Ikebana creation for us. It was crap, of course; economy with flowers, no matter how artful the arrangement is to be despised, and my husband agrees with me on this. Not wishing to discourage Ikebana Boy, I waited until I reached our rooms to throw it away.

 

Erestor's memories were slowly being changed. Normally I kept the memory intact but altered the level of evil. The most dangerous memories were changed first and slowly his personality started to change. He became less evil and depression hit him as doubt about his future assailed him.

 

"What if Glorfindel is with someone else?" Erestor asked as we sat in the mind reading room. "He is bound to have met someone else by now."

 

"I do not think he has," I replied. "He has built a house just outside the town and doesn't share with anyone."

 

Such is Erestor's depression that he assumed Glorfindel would have built the house with another in mind to share it with him. He sat with his knees drawn up under his chin and his arms around his legs. He rocked slightly. "Why did I do those things to Glorfindel?" he asked.

 

"Do you know how to love?" I asked him.

 

"I do not think I do," he replied. "I know desire but not about putting anyone first. To me, love is mixed with pain and I am certain that it is not really like that at all."

 

"Why is that?"

 

"I see some of the elves who work for you and they are with the ones they love. They do not look as though they hurt one another," Erestor replied, fully aware that he had never enjoyed a loving relationship and feeling bereft because of it.

 

"That is because they do not hurt one another," I told him. "It is the very last thing they would want to do to one they love."

 

"You hurt Maglor when he was your prisoner," Erestor said weakly.

 

"Yes I did," I agreed. "That was before Manwë made Maglor and me soul mates. I would rather hurt myself before even harming one hair on his head or saying a bad word to him."

 

"What is it like to be in love?" Erestor asked.

 

"It is like something you have never felt before," I told him. "But I am sure you will, one day."

 

"I do not think so, and even if I do then Glorfindel will not want me." Erestor seemed very depressed and so I suggested that he go back to his room and have a nap.

 

"I will take you for a walk along the beach when you awake." I thought he would be happy as I sometimes gave him the opportunity to walk along the beach with me accompanying him. He loved to watch the porpoises and seals playing in the water and had even drawn what he remembered and put the pictures on the wall. His childlike fascination when he dipped his feet into the cold sea water and his pleasure at feeling the sand between his toes was something he talked about quite often. He was changing and small things began to delight him where he had sneered at them before. Maglor had long ceased to consider Erestor a threat and sometimes accompanied us on our walks, although his memory was long and he found it hard to like him.

 

"I do not care anymore," Erestor said softly. "There is nothing for me in this life."

 

I did not take him seriously because he had said words like that before. I looked sympathetic, even though he irritated me, and led him back to his room. "Keep an eye on Erestor, he is very depressed," I said to one of the elves who watched him.

 

I was informed that lately Erestor was always depressed and the elves were worried about him. "Do not waste your sympathy on one so vile; I have no doubt it is a new trick he is trying," I replied and smiled. I genuinely did believe this. In the past few years he had often tried various ruses to outwit me whilst seeming to be compliant. He was a devious one and we all had to be careful. There was nothing to indicate that this day would be any different.

 

Half an hour later, two panicking elves came running into my living room to tell me that Erestor had tried to garrotte himself with the bed sheet. At first they suspected nothing because he was in bed and facing away from them, but the eventual seizure had given the game away.

 

Erestor lay on his bed shaking and having some kind of convulsive fit. He lay in a small pool of vomit and saliva foamed from his mouth. From the smell, I guessed that he had been incontinent. One of the elves showed me a small stick from the garden which Erestor had secured to the sheet and twisted round to make the sheet tighten against a stone he had secured against his throat. The flesh was heavily bruised and I wondered if the windpipe was crushed. I picked him up and took him to the healing rooms. I could heal him but I had to know what I was healing before attempting to do so. Normally I could guess correctly, but there is so much in the throat it can be a tricky area.

 

Taking a sharp blade from the covered tray the healer brought me, I sliced across the skin and underlying muscle at the pit of Erestor's throat. My fingers pulled the skin and flesh apart and I saw the ribbed bands of his trachea. The knife cut between two of the ribs and a rush of air passed into Erestor's lungs. The healer stood beside me mopping up the blood. I kept the wound open with a pair of reversible scissors which Elrond invented; as the top shuts the blades open and there is a catch to keep them in that position. The hole was continually dabbed with absorbent material to stop the blood flowing into the lungs and we waited for the seizure to stop.

 

Manwë appeared beside me accompanied by Elrond. "He has been leading up to this," he said and I nodded in agreement. "I brought Elrond along so that you can both decide the damage Erestor has done to the inside of his throat. If you need any help then I will come back but at the moment I am rather busy. Yavanna and Aulë are presenting their first child to Varda and me so we can bless it."

 

He disappeared. Elrond opened Erestor's mouth and peered in. "It is pretty dark in there," he said and grinned. "I wonder how much Erestor deserves our intervention," he mused.

 

"He does not at all," I replied. "He is not the most loveable elf but he has been improving lately."

 

"He was incredibly wicked in Imladris. He poisoned Melpomaen the day after his fiftieth begetting day and it took a month for him to die, also he left Glorfindel so terribly injured we had to work all through the night to save him. That is not to mention all the other iniquities he performed in my realm as well as every other place he lived. I think that if Erestor dies it will be no loss."

 

"It is odd that Glorfindel still loves him, is it not?" I said. "Although according to Lord Manwë they are soul mates."

 

"Lucky Erestor and poor Glorfindel, I would say," Elrond remarked as he extended Erestor's neck and pulled his chin up. He held a lamp by Erestor's mouth and pushed a metal rod to the back of his tongue and peered in whilst I kept the scissors steady. "He has crushed his larynx and it is blocking his airway." I had suspected as much.

 

"How long was Erestor having a seizure for before you called me?" I asked the elf who came to fetch me. He replied that as soon as he saw him shaking he ran to inform me.

 

"He probably has brain damage," Elrond said and pulled the rod out of Erestor's mouth. "He always was an attention seeker." I really do like Elrond when he is being uncaring. He is not normally like this and often I tell him that he is overly sympathetic where others are concerned; however, I have never known him show any compassion for Erestor's plight. I think the fact that he murdered an elf, who was one day past being an elfling, has coloured any judgement Elrond might make about him, and rightly so; one should never kill for no reason, otherwise there is no point.

 

"I cannot see that would be a bad thing in view of how he was before," I replied and we both laughed. "I have done all this work on him and he has probably done more to help himself in the past half hour than I ever have."

 

"Isn't that always the way?" Elrond grinned. "Now, what are we going to do about healing him?"

 

"That's easy," I replied. "Now I know what has happened, I can put it all back together." I asked Elrond to hold the scissors and moved round to Erestor's head.

 

"He is stirring," Elrond told me.

 

I held Erestor's head still as he struggled. He was in pain and tried to move his hands towards his throat. The healer held them down so that I could carry on with what I was doing. I moved my hand over Erestor's throat and visualised the crushed larynx inside. I could see it clearly and by directing my power through my fingertips, which I held just above where Elrond held the scissors, I was able to rebuild his throat. Elrond told the healer to bring a tray of needles and thread and took over holding Erestor down. I was rather amused when he told our struggling patient to shut up and stay still.

 

"No need," I said and told Elrond to pull the scissors out. I healed the cut in the trachea and the muscle above it. Then I healed the overlying skin.

 

"I wish I could do that," Elrond said. "Do you think Lord Manwë would give me the power to do it?"

 

"You could ask him," I replied. "I cannot see why he would not."

 

Erestor was in no more pain but remained shocked. I was unable to assess any brain damage without touching his scalp, but he was too shaken and upset for the moment. He looked bewildered and terrified; tears coursed down his cheeks and his whole body shook. I had never seen him like that before, and even Elrond raised an eyebrow at his behaviour. "Most unlike, Erestor," he remarked.

 

I sat beside Erestor on the bed, and put my arms around him as he cried; he clung to me as a frightened elfling would. I placed one of my hands against his scalp and knew that Erestor's brain had indeed been damaged; he now had the mind of an elfling. "Erestor," I said to him. "You are safe now." I patted his back whilst he calmed down and reflected how unlikely it was for a Dark Lord to tell anyone they were safe and reassure them.

 

"Let Erestor sleep here tonight," I told the healer and then turned to the guards. "Stay with him and make sure he is safe. He is very frightened and now has the mind of an elfling."

 

Maglor had been watching from the door. "Poor Erestor," he said. "If he has the mind of a child he will be too upset to be left on his own." He walked over to the one he had previously hated with a passion and gathered him in his arms. Erestor clung to him and buried his head in Maglor's shoulder. My only one soothed Erestor and stroked his back, talking softly to him until he fell asleep.

 

"Maglor used to do that to me when I was a little elfling," Elrond said happily.

 

Erestor fell asleep with his thumb in his mouth; even I was touched by that. All that time and work wasted. I wondered what it was all for when one simple event could so cataclysmically change everything.

 

Oh well! When Erestor is calmer I can assess the effects of the damage and decide what to do about it, until then I can do nothing. It may not be as bad as it seems.


	41. The End of Erestor and His New Beginning.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor dies and Namo takes his soul.

The guards woke me in the very early hours of the morning and I ran with them to Erestor's bed in the healing rooms. He laid pale and convulsing, his lips blue and the life rapidly leaving him. "Lord Manwë," I said loudly and waited for him to come.

 

"He is dying," Manwë said, stating the obvious, as he appeared by my side. Next to him stood Námo and I knew there was no hope.

 

"Are we to do nothing?" I asked.

 

"It is better that I take his fëa and free him from the parts of him that Melkor corrupted," Námo told me. "You did as much as you could but I always thought that in one so tainted it would be an impossible task."

 

"Will Erestor be reborn?" I asked. "If he is not then I think that Glorfindel might be my next patient." I was bored already, thinking of all the hair waving, mirror watching and angry posturing that Maglor and I would have to endure.

 

"He will be reborn tomorrow and Glorfindel will be none the wiser. We will tell him the truth that Erestor's cure is taking more time than we anticipated." Manwë put his hand on my shoulder. "You must be wondering what it was all for."

 

"I have wondered that many times, not just today."

 

We looked at Erestor. He still shook, but not as much, and his eyes were wide open and unseeing. Námo took his hand and called for his fëa to join him.

 

"We could have taken Erestor's life when he first came here, but it was better for him to agree to change. One should always try." Manwë looked grief stricken as Erestor rose from his body at Námo's touch. He looked at Erestor. "I am sorry," he said to him. "We did all we could."

 

Erestor looked bewildered, but Námo reassured him. "Come with me," he said to the fëa that was already beginning to fade. "From now on everything will be better."

 

Manwë and I stood alone next to Erestor's lifeless body. I had always dreamed of Erestor dying and had visualised the many ways his demise could take place, but now all was an anticlimax and I felt nothing.

 

"He will be re-embodied very soon," Manwë said to me. "It will be a fresh start for him and all can begin anew."

 

"Perhaps it is for the best," I replied. "In the meantime, I had better make arrangements for the body."

 

"I will take it," Manwë told me. "It remains so infested with Melkor's evil that it needs to be thrown into the void. No place in Valinor can remain uncorrupted with this body in its ground."

 

"Does that mean that part of Erestor still exists within the body?" I asked. "I would not like to think of Melkor using it as his plaything; he did enough of that to me."

 

"Nothing remains of Erestor here. All that was him has gone. Erestor had two adas, one was his natural ada who supplied the seed to make him and the other was Melkor whose seed took over the baby's body and mind, and made him his child also. Erestor had the complete fëa supplied by his parents and he also had half of one supplied by Melkor. That fëa has remained in incomplete form within the body, whereas Erestor's own is now free. The fëa that remains has no life now because it was a parasite feeding off what was already in Erestor. That life force has gone, Melkor cannot resurrect it and so it will remain dead."

 

"It would be like him to torture his only child though," I said. "After his treatment of me I realise that nothing is untouchable anymore with him."

 

Manwë looked at me. "Sauron have you ever thought about how much you have changed?"

 

"Not really," I replied. "I always seem to be making the best of the situation."

 

"One day," he told me. "You will not be called Sauron anymore, but Aulendil as his presence grows stronger every day."

 

"Damn!" I joked. "I should go out and mercilessly torture a few kittens to reverse it then, shouldn't I?"

 

"No matter what you say, it is happening." Manwë smiled. "I am very pleased with your progress and I think that your love for Maglor has had much to do with it."

 

Manwë carefully picked Erestor's body up in his arms. "I want you both to visit Elrond this afternoon. There is something important that I want him to witness." He disappeared and left me on my own.

 

I called for a servant and asked him to put Erestor's personal effects into storage in one of the attic rooms until I could decide what to do with them. We walked along to the rooms where he had spent the past few years and I looked around. It wasn't much and already the door to his garden had disappeared as if it was never there. I sighed and walked out of the room.

 

"Erestor died of a seizure," I said to Maglor as I climbed into bed. "We could not save him and in the end Námo took him."

 

"Was Lord Manwë angry with you?" Maglor asked.

 

"No, he thought it might be for the best. I believe Erestor is to be reborn now his fëa is free of the taint that was Melkor."

 

"They should have done that in the first place," Maglor said to me and stroked my face.

 

"Do you think I am changing?" I asked. "Manwë said that I am and that soon I will be called Aulendil again. I am sure he is wrong, I do not feel any different."

 

"You are changing," Maglor replied.

 

"I do not mean to," I said and Maglor laughed.

 

"Every day I love you more, and every day you love me more, would you agree?"

 

I nodded.

 

"Love changes everyone," Maglor said and grinned. "You will still be my Sauron and I will still call you it, but you are becoming more understanding and compassionate whether you like it or not."

 

"But that means I will not be a Dark Lord anymore and I worked so hard to be one," I said as I put my arms around my wise husband.

 

"You are wrong," Maglor smiled and flicked the tip of my nose with his tongue. "You will always be regarded as dangerous and evil, and it will always be there hidden under a layer of compassion. The moment love for me entered your heart all was lost. You still have the potential and capacity but not the willing, if you see what I mean."

 

"You are right," I agreed. "Most of the time I cannot be bothered, but I expect I am still capable of some extremely heinous and stunningly dreadful acts of evil."

 

"Of course you are, my Dark Lord," Maglor said to me.

 

"Call me Dark Lord again," I said and stroked my husband's side.

 

"Dark Lord, Dark Lord, you are a Dark Lord," Maglor sang to me and screeched when I growled playfully and launched myself upon him.

 

"Are you tired?" I asked, smiling as I stroked his hardness.

 

Maglor did not answer; he merely smiled and pulled me closer. We kissed and our hands caressed as our tension built. I entered him with a deep kiss, a soft sigh and closed eyes. He always felt so warm that I could die within him. He is my restraint from excess and I adore him. I know why I am changing; one cannot love another to the exclusion of feeling for everyone else. My love for Maglor is my downfall and yet it is how it was meant to be.


	42. The Baby Erestor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron receives a huge surprise - one that he is not very happy with.

Maglor and I stepped out of our carriage and were met by Elrond and Celebrían. I still think she is a stupid, simpering heifer, but Elrond adores her, and now she has been subject to my attentions she loves him too.

 

"Good to see you again," Elrond said to me. "Come inside."

 

Elrond's house is massive. It has to be; many of the elves who work there live in the house as well. I suppose it must be like his old home in Imladris, but as I never saw it I would not know. We walked up the stairs to a rather grand apartment that is used by Elrond and his wife. I have been here many times before so the painted ceilings of great elven battles and the flower stuccoed walls were familiar to me. The house Maglor and I live in has white geometric panelled ceilings and plain walls with white stucco sea motifs in the corners and above the doors and windows, I like it very much but sometimes Maglor complains that it is too severe. After one of our visits to Elrond's house, Maglor expressed the desire for a painting of his ada and brothers riding out to fulfil their oath with hordes of followers behind them. I considered that it was not the sort of thing one would have hanging in a clinic and so I waved my hand to make it appear on the bedroom wall and invited him in to see it.

 

"I am not having sex with you, with my ada and brothers watching," he snorted. "You did not really think this one out, did you?" As he stormed out of the room muttering about how stupid I was. I dematerialised and reappeared in front of him. He jumped and told me not to do that.

 

"Back in the bedroom," I said and guided him in by holding onto his arm. "I thought you would like it." I waved my hand and it disappeared.

 

"I did, but not in the bedroom," Maglor replied. "How would you feel if your family were painted all over the room you have sex in?"

 

"Slightly risqué, if I had any," I said quickly.

 

"I am sorry," Maglor said to me.

 

"I will put it in another room," I said and stormed out with Maglor calling behind me that he had said he was sorry. The toilet now has a rather stunning painting of the twit elves following the obsessive idiot Fëanor and his barking mad ionen to a hopeless life trying to fulfil an oath that had no chance of success anyway.

 

However, I digress. We sat down on a cream silk sofa and I wondered, as I always did, how it was kept clean. A tray of tea and cakes was set down on a small table before us as Elrond and Celebrían sat on the sofa opposite.

 

"I am sorry to hear that Erestor died," Elrond said. "Lord Manwë told me this morning." I doubt he was really sorry, as he all but hated him.

 

"Glorfindel must not find out. Erestor will be re-embodied and presented to him, in time, as the original Erestor," I said as I stirred the slice of lemon in my tea.

 

"How will Lord Manwë manage that?" Elrond asked.

 

"I have no idea," I replied. "He can manage most things though."

 

Manwë chose that moment to materialise and in his arms he held a tiny baby. No doubt it was Erestor and he was going to ask Elrond and Celebrian to raise him. They had successfully fostered Aragorn, and raised their own, so it seemed logical that they do it again.

 

Manwë exchanged greetings with us and sat between Maglor and me. "The mind of Erestor's original fëa did not grow after he was infected with Manwë's seed and so we had to make him a baby again." He handed Erestor to me. "It will be good for you to bring up a child."

 

"Me?" I said, thoroughly shocked. "How can I bring up a child? I am a Dark Lord!"

 

"It will not just be you," Maglor said and took Erestor from me. "Now Erestor has the chance to be as he always should have been, he has the chance to be like everyone else."

 

"Erestor will not develop as quickly as other elflings at first, because his mind is still that of an unborn foetus, but his body is perfect and he should do well." Manwë told us. "We tried to re-embody him as an adult elf at first and that is when it became apparent that he would do much better as a baby."

 

"Why don't we just find his original parents and give him to them?" I said, slightly irritated.

 

"Because it will be good for your rehabilitation as well," Manwë told me. I knew then why he was giving me Erestor in front of Elrond. He feared I would kill the baby and deny its existence unless there was an unimpeachable witness to verify him having lived. I have never killed babies because it was more preferable to indoctrinate them into the ways of evil. I do not suppose I will be allowed to do that with Erestor though. "You are still evil and we have to take that into account."

 

I am heartened that Manwë thinks I am still evil, I was beginning to lose hope that I might still be after Maglor confirming the Lord of Airs opinion that I was becoming good. "Are you not afraid that I might bring Erestor up to be evil?"

 

"Not with Maglor being such a good influence on you," Manwë smirked. My dream is that one day the Lord of Airs comes back as a baby and I give him a hard smack across the arse.

 

"All the equipment you need will be provided in a room next to your bedroom where Erestor will sleep," Manwë said to Maglor and me. "I have altered the house slightly so that the room can be accommodated and Erestor's old rooms are no more. His effects are to be kept so that he can remember his former life and Glorfindel when he is of age."

 

So that is how Manwë was going to achieve it. At one point Erestor would be given his old memories and I would be the one to help him adjust. Still, that was many years in the future. In the meantime we had a tiny baby to look after.

 

"What will we do for milk?" Maglor asked.

 

"He will feed from you, Maglor," Manwë replied. "You have proved yourself capable of caring for elflings in the past and when Erestor needs to feed the milk will flow."

 

"Maglor will have tits?" I asked with a rather suprised expression on my face.

 

"No," Manwë relied. "The milk will flow; it will not be stored."

 

"Oh," I smiled and wondered if Maglor's milk would flow for me too.

 

Elrond and Celebrían took turns in holding Erestor and pronouncing how sweet and lovely he was; I wondered why elves do that. He is only a baby and cannot even understand what they are saying. He looked like any other baby elf.

 

"It is time to show your ion his new home." Manwë waved his hand and the room changed. Elrond and Celebrían were with us as we arrived in Erestor's new bedroom.

 

"How delightful," Celebrían said as she looked around the bedroom. "I love the little bunnies." Stupid heifer! I hated it and it was very different to the bedroom I would have chosen for him, not enough black for a start.

 

"If you need advice on child care I expect Elrond and Celebrían will be able to help you," Manwë said to Maglor and me. "Erestor's existence as an elfling must remain a secret though. Glorfindel must not find out."

 

"Why not?" Maglor asked.

 

"Because Glorfindel loves the one who abused him and who could potentially do it again," Manwë replied.

 

Elrond looked shocked. "You mean Glorfindel desired Erestor's abuse? Surely not!"

 

Manwë nodded. "I want to avoid him rejecting the new Erestor. This little baby will not be able to give Glorfindel the abuse he craves when he is an adult. Glorfindel needs to think that Erestor has decided to change and has eschewed that part of his life."

 

I am doubtful it will work as nothing can be built upon lies, except any evil empire that I set up. However, it is all we have to work with.

 

When everyone had left, Maglor handed the tiny, sleeping baby to me and went into the next room to put some sheets and a blanket on the cot bed. The baby's fluffy dark hair and pink lips were the same shade as the adult Erestor's, and his skin was softer than down. A tiny hand curled around my fingers and Erestor smiled in his sleep. Maglor had left us alone.

 

"Yes, little baby. You might smile, but you now have a Dark Lord for an ada. How are you going to like that?" I said as I kissed Erestor's cheek.


	43. Guilt is the Master of us all, (Except Me).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maglor tries hard to be the perfect ada which causes friction between him and Sauron.

I have made a few mistakes so far in raising Erestor. They are small but Maglor was very critical at the time and still does not forget them, they seem to be used as ammunition in every argument we have. We do not argue often, but when we do, Maglor has everything he can throw at me in hand and because he is, 'perfect' I have hardly anything.

 

The first mistake was when Erestor was very tiny; I changed his nappy and apparently I put it the wrong way around. According to Maglor this makes me terminally stupid as this sort of thing is supposed to be obvious to everyone. He would not have dared talk to me like that in Barad-hûr.

 

The second mistake was when I did not match Erestor's clothing. I put a pink jumper on him and orange dungarees. Erestor did not mind and neither did I. Maglor said he was not colour coordinated and stormed off into the bedroom to pick a different colour jumper. My third mistake came swiftly after. I thought I was safe as Maglor was supposed to be in the bedroom looking for the alternate piece of clothing. Erestor looked at me and smiled, I looked back at him. "Ada is an anal dickhead," I said and looked up just knowing Maglor was standing there.

 

"WHAT?" he yelled before snatching Erestor from me and hurriedly pulling the pink jumper from his body. "How dare you say things like that about me. Do you want Erestor to grow up as he was before?"

 

"I am sorry," I said, not very sincerely. "I am sure Erestor will be fine and I am sure your perpetual temper will abate in forty-nine years time when he goes to live with Glorfindel."

 

"I am sorry," Maglor replied. "I do not want the Valar to say we have not brought him up properly. You do not seem to care about how he grows up."

 

"I try and help you but it seems that everything I do is wrong," I said to him. I lied; I did not try and help Maglor very much. I preferred to play with the baby when he was clean and fed, otherwise Maglor could have him back very quickly. I am a Dark Lord, not a bloody nursemaid. I offered to engage a nanny and Maglor would not hear of it, so my mistakes are partly his fault too.

 

My fourth mistake was giving Erestor a cookie to eat. I thought that as he had two bottom teeth about to come through he might like to eat one. Apparently I should have soaked it in milk first and removed the chocolate chips because he could have choked on them. Maglor keeps all these mistakes listed inside his head and it can be most trying living with him at the moment. Erestor does not seem to bat an eyelid and cares not who is holding him or what he is wearing; I wish I was allowed to be so laid back. I am fast losing my temper.

 

My fifth mistake, probably my most heinous one according to Maglor, who no doubt thinks that I should be hung, drawn and quartered for it, was to pull the leg off a live crab in front of Erestor to show him how the joint worked where it met the body. He was fascinated and I thought we were having quality bonding time. Maglor threw a fit which was made worse by Erestor's squeals of baby laughter. It soon turned to tears when Maglor refused to let him keep the crab leg as a toy. I sympathised with Erestor; spare body parts are always fun to play with.

 

For the past two years I have had to endure the zealous fury of Maglor as I do even the smallest of things that he thinks are wrong. I have had enough. Erestor is not the problem, nor is it that we have been unwillingly been given an elfling to raise as our own. The problem is Maglor trying to do his and everyone else's best. It has to stop.

 

Late this afternoon, Erestor and I were sitting on the beach watching Maglor trying to spear a fish. He wanted to sit on my lap, so I let him. He pointed out to sea and said, "Look Ada fish."

 

"That's right," I said watching Maglor and knowing that he would not be able to hear me with his bat radar ears. We watched as he caught a big silver fish and placed it on a rock, beating its head with a stone to kill it. "Of course," I said to Erestor. "You should never get the impression that beating a fish's head in is a more dreadful thing to do than pulling a crab's leg off." I expect Erestor did not understand but it made me feel better.

 

We barbecued the fish and all was happy. Erestor ate some mashed potatoes and a handful of small fish bits with his fingers, and we had the same with some salad. Erestor does not seem too enamoured of salad vegetables, but in time I am sure he will love them; Maglor will make him. My dear husband was worried for a while about Erestor's lack of vegetable intake; however, I pointed out that elves do not generally suffer from eating less than healthily and so he seems to have relaxed a bit on that particular subject.

 

We went back to the house after eating and we all shared a bath. Erestor thought it would be amusing to poo in it, but otherwise everything was fine. Erestor was not sitting on my leg when it happened but Maglor's and I gained a surreptitious amusement from the action, especially when he studied my face to make sure I was not laughing. I find Maglor's explosions of temper quite tiresome lately and so I decided to play along with him for a quiet life. After a last drink of milk we put our little ion in his cot. I gave him his teddy bear and he put his thumb in his mouth. He looked so sweet that I almost thought I could love him. His eyes closed and we walked out of his room.

 

"Come with me," I said to Maglor who looked tired and ready to fall asleep. "Let us go to bed as well and I will hold you. I know you are probably too tired to do anything else."

 

"I have to wash Erestor's clothes and..."

 

"Enough," I said, my voice betraying my impatience and anger. "There is time to do that in the morning and I will help you." I have no idea why he insisted on washing the baby clothing when we have a perfectly good laundress who washes everyone's clothing nearly every day, but who can understand an elf.

 

"You will do it wrong," he said wearily. I wondered how a baby could wear someone out so much. I wondered if Erestor still feeding from him and if that made Maglor so tired. I do not really know why he was so but his weariness seemed to correlate with his temper being lost. Maglor is my only love and I did not want to see him like this.

 

"Come to bed," I said and propelled him towards our haven of togetherness. "You need a good night's sleep."

 

"That would be wonderful if I could," Maglor replied. He took his dressing gown off and let it drop to the floor; I hung mine over a chair.

 

"Get in," I ordered and closed the curtains as it was still quite light outside. He did as I bid, and I climbed in next to him. "Close your eyes," I said softly and stroked his head. My arms held my love and in the end he closed his eyes. I waited for his breathing to become regular and then placed my hands on his scalp so that I could find out why he was being so irritable about how I cared for Erestor.

 

It seemed logical to go back to when he was an elfling. When I found him he was a very good looking one indeed. His family was very loving and life was extremely happy. I found no reason there. I went to when he had looked after Elrond and Elros, and I seemed to strike gold. Maglor felt intense feelings of guilt for depriving the twins of their parents and for the first time he was having doubts about the quest. He did what he could and even now Elrond has some very positive memories of Maglor being his parent. The guilt drove my only one to be the best parent he could and it seemed that now he was doing the same thing with Erestor.

 

I moved on and looked at the situation now in Maglor's mind. He had transferred the guilt he felt about the twins onto how he looked after Erestor. Everything had to be absolutely right so that he could say he had done his best. I also found out that he often lay awake at night; sleep eluded him as the guilty memories surfaced and that was the reason he was so tired, apparently he had stopped feeding some months before. I was never allowed to watch Maglor feeding Erestor because he found it too embarrassing. I took away the feelings of guilt. I could do no more as the events of the past were in too many elves minds for me to wipe away the memories completely. Hoping it was enough, I let go and pulled him in for a cuddle. He slept for the rest of the night.

 

"Did you have a good night?" I asked the next morning. Because I love Maglor and wanted him to sleep longer, I had previously risen early, changed Erestor's nappy and washed him, all the time softly singing him a marching song that was sung by the orcs in Barad-hûr. He thought it was great and I could hear him trying to join in with the chorus. I lay with Erestor between us and Maglor smiled at me.

 

"I slept all night," he replied and gave me a look of lazy contentment. "I do not feel so tired this morning. I haven't slept well since Erestor came to stay; maybe that is why I have been so ratty."

 

"You should have told me," I said to him. "I could have done something about it." How I love telling lies, even little ones!

 

"There is no need," Maglor replied. "I seem to have shaken it off on my own."

 

"Well that's good then," I said and kissed him.

 

Little Erestor giggled and reached his hands up to me, so I kissed him too.


	44. Erestor's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elfling Erestor meets Feanor, and Glorfindel.

Manwë has decided that Erestor needs to interact with other elflings and so he will appear to have blonde hair to other elves outside our secluded bay. He will also be called Annárë instead of Erestor when we are not at home. He says that Erestor will know automatically to answer to his new name when we are away from home and he will not worry about having blonde hair. According to the Lord of Airs, Glorfindel will never suspect that Annárë is really Erestor if we do that. He has not thought about what might happen if Erestor sees Glorfindel, he already dreams about him.

 

Last night little Erestor came in to see me whilst I was asleep and snuggled up to Maglor. That did not deter him though. "Ada, wake up. I had a nightmare," he shouted in my ear causing me to jump. Then he climbed over me and positioned himself in-between us. Were he not my ion I would have thrashed him severely; I am not averse to doing that to an elfling.

 

Erestor cuddled up to me. "Ada, you want to hear about my nightmare?"

 

"Not really," I answered.

 

"The blond bimbo was in it and he kissed me," he told me as if imparting a delicious secret, which I suppose to a six year old, it was. "Then he asked me to whip him, so I did, but I was much bigger in the dream and really strong and he screamed when I did it."

 

"Never mind," I replied, wanting to go back to sleep. "He probably deserved it. I fail to see why you think it is a nightmare though; I always enjoyed whipping the life out of captives when I lived in Middle-earth."

 

"I wanted to get in bed with you and Ada, so I said I had a nightmare." Erestor gave me a beaming smile and I could see every one of his little white teeth. "I wasn't really frightened."

 

"So you lied to me?" I asked, giving him a severe look.

 

"Yes, I did," he giggled.

 

"Well done," I told him. "I will make a Dark Lord of you yet."

 

"You can be Dark Lord, Ada and I can be Dark Lord, Erestor." My ion laughed and shook Maglor's shoulder.

 

"What?" my only one said sleepily.

 

"Will you make me a whip? I want to be a Dark Lord like Ada."

 

"I do not believe I am hearing this," Maglor mumbled. "Go to back to bed, Erestor, and stop being silly."

 

Erestor took no notice and lay down with his small arms around my husband. "Love you, Ada," he said to Maglor and kissed him. "Don't want to go back to bed and have another nightmare."

 

What a smart and devious elfling he is, one to be proud of I would say. Maglor's arms encircled our ion and they both fell asleep again. I lay back on my pillow and pulled the covers up so all three of us could remain warm. There was a stiff sea breeze blowing outside, enough to gather the foam off the crests of the waves and hurled them against the french doors which rattled with abandon. I waved my hand and the doors stopped moving, but I could still hear the water spray against the glass. The air was chilled and so I snuggled against my small family and fell asleep.

 

The next day was cloudy and the sky was dark and heavy. "Let's go to town and buy some baby weapons for Erestor," I said to Maglor. "It will be his first time shopping and we should make it a special occasion." We never took Erestor into Alqualondë as we might run into Glorfindel; instead we went to the woods or faraway villages and settlements so that our ion could have outside contact there. But now we would be able to, if Manwë's plan worked.

 

"Shall we buy you a bow?" Maglor asked Erestor as he bent down to kiss him and straighten his collar.

 

"Only if I can use it to shoot things," Erestor answered. "Can I have a dagger as well and a big sword and a whip?"

 

"Of course you can," I said before Maglor could answer, "and then you can learn how to use them."

 

"Hooray!" Erestor said and jumped up and down. It doesn't take much.

 

It would be the perfect opportunity to test Manwë's latest half-baked theory. We rode in the closed carriage to the town, and as we left the bay area, Erestor's hair turned blond. "Look your hair is blond now," Maglor said to him.

 

"It has always been blond," Erestor replied as though Maglor was mad. That part of Manwë's enchantment seemed to have worked at least.

 

We exited the carriage outside a weapon's shop. The rain pelted on our backs as we piled through the door. Inside, bows of all sizes hung on the walls and a display of arrows were arranged above. Several designs were familiar to me, from weapons taken from captives who were enjoying my forced hospitality on Middle-earth. Such pleasant memories they evoked.

 

A selection of mounted daggers behind a sheet of glass entranced Erestor. "Can I have that one?" he asked.

 

"I see no reason why not," I replied and bought it for him. "I hope you are going to mindlessly kill a few defenceless animals with such a fine knife," I said as I fixed it to his belt.

 

The other elves in the shop looked at me. They were shocked that an ada could say such a thing to his ion. Maglor merely sighed with annoyance. "Take no notice," he said to them. "My husband is a Dark Lord and old habits die hard."

 

"I am a Dark Lord too," Erestor proudly beamed, ignoring the horrified looks the elves were giving him.

 

"You wish," Maglor said scathingly to him. I feel that my husband really should not discourage Erestor's ambitions lest he become disheartened later on.

 

"I want that bow over there and some arrows," I said to the shop assistant. "I also want that sword over there and I want it sharpened." Then I turned to the elves watching me. "I am indeed a Dark Lord, and it would bode all of you well to turn away and mind your own business. I have an exceptional memory for faces."

 

They all turned away quickly and a couple actually left the shop. It was pouring hard so no one really wanted to leave the warm shelter. "My Lord," the shop assistant said to me. "Elfling swords are never normally sharpened. They are used for practice only."

 

"How is my ion going to be able to kill anything with a blunt sword?" I asked as if scandalised.

 

"I am sorry, my Lord," The shop keeper started. "But I will not sharpen..."

 

"I have had enough of this," Maglor said suddenly and drove his own dagger into the counter, making everyone jump. My heart swelled with love and pride for my impetuous husband. "I am an ion of Fëanor and we like killing things, my whole family does. Sharpen the sword or else I slit your throat!"

 

"I will sell you the blunt sword but I refuse to sharpen it," the shop assistant told Maglor. "If your ion cut himself on it I would consider myself responsible because I sharpened it. Try and slit my throat, I am Noldor too and the fight will be equal." Actually no it won't. I am in the room and when Maglor is with me he is invincible.

 

"Bring it to my forge and I will sharpen the sword," a voice boomed from the back of the shop.

 

"Ada," Maglor called out. "Is that you?"

 

Fëanor stormed into the selling area and stood behind the shop assistant who quickly moved to the side of him. "What are you doing here, Maglor?" he asked. "Why have you brought that twat, Sauron, with you?"

 

"I am married to him," Maglor replied and then in a lightning swift action he held his dagger to his ada's throat and threatened to slit it if he ever said anything bad about me again. How I adore my impulsive and mad Maglor, his loyalty is beyond reproach.

 

Fëanor burst into roaring laughter. He always overdid everything. Pushing Maglor's hand away he told him not to be so impulsive, as if he is one to give advice like that. Erestor watched goggle-eyed and announced that he was going to be like his ada when he grew up.

 

"He is yours?" Fëanor asked Maglor.

 

"Manwë gave him to us as a baby. He was re-embodied and given to us when tiny," Maglor explained lest his ada assume our ion was actually ours and start asking awkward anatomical questions.

 

Erestor already knew that he was given to us as a baby, but then he thought that all babies arrived like that. I suppose one day we should tell him. The other elves in the shop made out to be incredibly interested in the bow and arrow displays and the weather outside. They avoided my eye when I looked their way and quite rightly too.

 

"What's your name, little one?" Fëanor boomed to my ion who was staring at his over the top Grand ada.

 

"Erestor," he replied. "What's yours?"

 

"My name is Fëanor and I am your grand-ada," was the reply. "Nice to meet you Annárë."

 

Erestor heard Annárë as his own name and did not bat an eyelid. Manwë had got away with it so far. "Is he telling the truth, Ada?" Erestor asked me. "Is he really my grand ada?"

 

"Yes," I replied and gave him a look of sympathy. "Say hello."

 

"Hello," Erestor said to Fëanor as he held Maglor's hand. "I want a sharp sword so I can kill things."

 

Fëanor burst into fits of laughter. "I can tell he is your ion, Maglor." He then looked at Erestor. "Come around the back to my forge and you can watch me sharpen your sword."

 

We all trooped around the back of the shop and I noticed that there was a collective sigh of relief from the other elves in the shop as we went; I looked back at them to let them know I had heard. The forge was just outside in a stone flagged yard. Large chunks of metal were placed against one of the walls and a pile of gemstones lay on the small table. Several half-finished swords hung from the far wall, and a spool of gold wire stood on a shelf next to an undecorated dagger. Fëanor placed the flat of the small blade against the revolving sharpening stone. Sparks flew as contact was made, and in the end the blade was so sharp it could split a hair. Fëanor placed it inside a leather embossed scabbard and attached the whole thing to Erestor's belt. "Now, no playing with this sword; It is not a toy anymore. Not only can it kill an animal it is also sharp enough to kill you," Fëanor told our ion.

 

Erestor gave him a big beaming grin and put his arms around Fëanor's neck. "Thank you, Grand-Ada," he said. "Now I can go in the sea and fight killer whales and jellyfish."

 

"What a lovely little boy he is," Fëanor said to us. "You are obviously bringing him up properly. Why don't you let him come to the forge and learn how to make precious jewels?"

 

Maglor agreed immediately. He remembers many happy hours in his ada's forge when he was an elfling and thought it would be a good idea for Erestor too. I agreed as it would get Erestor out of the house and give him more contact with other elves as well, plus any elfling that spends a lot of time with Fëanor has a greater potential for perpetrating evil acts under the guise of thinking they are doing the right thing at the time. I am happy that he is going to spend time with an elf who has a warped sense of conscience and is perpetually larger than life. I would hate Erestor to grow up boring and normal because we did not give him the appropriate set of influences. It was agreed that we would leave him there and get some shopping, calling for him after a drink at the Saucy Mermaid Tavern.

 

Fëanor and Erestor waved to us from the counter of the shop and as we left Glorfindel walked in. I hovered for a few moments and heard Glorfindel ask if his sword could be repaired. As clear as the day I heard Erestor ask, "Are you a blond bimbo?"

 

I walked away, reassured by Fëanor's roaring mad laughter.


	45. The Birthday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond holds a birthday party for Erestor and while there Sauron taunts saruman.

Over the next few months, Erestor spent many happy days with Fëanor in his forge and unsurprisingly he wants to become a blacksmith when he is older. He added that he would also like to be a Dark Lord still, but in his spare time when he is not being a smith.

 

"You can be a Dark Lord and still be a smith at the same time," I told him as I fastened the jewelled clasp that held his new formal robe together. "When I was a Dark Lord in Middle-earth, I was also a warmonger, a ruler, a jailer, a warrior and a creator of the orc race. I managed it all at the same time and still slept at night."

 

"What is an orc?" Erestor asked and grinned at me. He is always grinning, he probably thinks he is being cute.

 

"They are a type of warrior that I created," I replied. "The only problem is that the elves discriminated against them because they were not terribly good looking. The orcs were always being picked on. It was unfair how the elves treated them."

 

"Are there any orcs here?" Erestor asked.

 

"No," I replied. "They were not allowed to come to Valinor as they were too ugly. Same as men, hobbits, dwarves and trolls, they are ugly too."

 

"One of the blond bimbo's in the town is called Legolas and he has a dwarf named Gimli for a friend. He is the only dwarf in Valinor." Erestor's eyes grew wider as he told me. "They came in the shop and I think that Grand Ada likes the dwarf because they talk about different types of metal all the time. He told Gimli that I am a Dark Lord and the dwarf laughed, but I said to him that one day he would know that I was."

 

"Yes he will, and then he will laugh on the other side of his face," I said as I fitted Erestor's circlet on his head. "What did Legolas say?"

 

"He said that there was no such thing as a Dark Lord in Valinor and you stopped being one a long time ago. I said he was talking out his arse and Grand-Ada laughed." Erestor giggled, and then as if imparting a huge secret he told me that Legolas said that if he were not Fëanor's grand-ion that he would have tied him to a target and fired arrows at him.

 

"He did what?" Maglor asked from the doorway.

 

"Grand–Ada grabbed him by the throat and told him not to be disrespectful and Legolas threatened to kill him and drew his dagger. Then they both began to laugh. I don't understand them at all."

 

"It is because my Ada is as mad as a tub of otters and that others encourage him," Maglor sighed. "He hasn't asked you to swear any pointless oaths has he?"

 

"No," Erestor replied. "But we are making a gemstone that shines from inside because some of Anor's rays have been captured inside it."

 

"History repeating itself," I said and Maglor nodded.

 

"He never seems to learn," he said to me and stroked my cheek. If Erestor had not been in the room I would have bedded my Maglor that very instant.

 

I stood up and whispered in my only one's ear, "I will bring him back in here if he goes too far." Maglor seemed happy and little Erestor big ears wanted to know what I had said. "Why do you think I whispered?" I asked him.

 

He pulled a face and kicked my leg for being mean. It was a baby kick but I told him that if he ever did it again I would thrash him severely. "Don't like you anymore," he said and looked glum. "I am not holding your hand when we go to town either."

 

"I didn't want you to," I replied and smirked. Erestor burst into tears and stamped his feet in temper.

 

"Stop crying, Erestor," Maglor said and picked him up.

 

"Ada doesn't love me anymore," Erestor cried in true drama queen fashion.

 

"Of course Ada loves you," Maglor looked at me. "Don't you Sauron."

 

I took the manipulative little brat from Maglor and held him tight. "Of course I love you, silly Erestor," I said and stoked his cheek to wipe the tears away. "I must say you are very good at turning on the tears when you want others to feel sorry for you. Not that I do, of course."

 

"Do you think so?" Erestor replied, brightening up considerably.

 

"Dark Lords never cry unless they are horribly injured or someone they love dies," I told him.

 

"Can they do it to deceive someone?" Erestor asked.

 

"They really should not as it is about personal respect," I told him. "A Dark Lord who cries, even to deceive, is often thought of as weak and they can lose before they start."

 

"Stop filling Erestor's head with shit," Maglor said to me. "Now come on, we have to be at Elrond's house by five."

 

"I am going to spank your arse for that when we get back," I told my irritable husband.

 

"If you can," he teased and smiled. He pinched my bum and made me jump. "More of that later," he said and winked.

 

"More of what later?" Erestor asked.

 

"More pinched noses," Maglor said to the inquisitive one and pinched his nose, which thoroughly confused our ion and serve him right.

 

We went down to the carriage and made our way to Elrond's house. "No talking about blond bimbo's or asking if you can kill things," Maglor told Erestor. "We are going to a social occasion and you must act accordingly."

 

Erestor gave a petulant sigh. "Oh! All right then. Don't ask me to enjoy myself though."

 

Maglor and I chatted whilst Erestor looked out of the window and sulked. He kept misting up the window with his breath and drawing small animals. In the end we reached Elrond's house and went inside.

 

"Happy Birthday, Erestor," Elrond shouted and picked him up and swung him around. "How old are you now?"

 

"Seven," Erestor replied. He flicked his blond hair and grinned.

 

Elrond led Erestor by the hand and all the guests sang, 'Happy Birthday' to him. They all knew him as Annárë, which was part of Manwë's deception along with the blond hair, so that Glorfindel did not find out Erestor's true identity. There was a big cake and Erestor blew out the candles and we all settled down to eat. Maglor's mad family were there, including his brothers and their mass of descendents. I suspect Maglor is related to most of the dark haired elves in Valinor. Glorfindel was there too. He looked at Erestor oddly, but said nothing except to wish him a happy birthday.

 

Erestor received many gifts and was excited all the way through. Happily for Maglor, our ion forgot to be rude and enjoyed being a little elfling for the rest of the evening. I could not have cared less and when I saw Erestor talking to Glorfindel I hoped that he was explaining what a bimbo was, but they were deep in conversation about kites.

 

The evening was quite good fun for a Dark Lord. The, 'reformed' Saruman tried to talk to me but I politely told him to bugger off. He was a failure on Middle-earth and I still thought it unwise to associate with him now. He threatened to tell Manwë that I was rude to him, but I cared not.

 

"Pleased do tell," I said to Saruman. "He will congratulate me for not encouraging old alliances. Anyway why do you still appear as an intensely ugly old man when you have a fairer Maia form?" I knew the answer, I was merely taunting him. He was not allowed his fairer form after all he did in Middle-earth. Manwë wanted him to always be immediately recognisable just in case he got up to no good.

 

"You think you are it, don't you?" Saruman fumed.

 

"La la la...I am not listening," I sang.

 

Saruman stormed off and I waved my hand at his fleeing arse making it grow five sizes bigger so he waddled like a duck. How I despise him; he thought that he could join forces with me and we could rule Middle-earth together. As if I would share power with a mere wizard. In his vanity he did not choose to question why I flattered and seduced him with my vision. When he realised, it was too late. How I enjoyed watching his face when it finally dawned on him that he would get nothing. Did he really think that I knew naught about his creation of another race of orcs? How amusing it was to watch him engineering his own destruction. Now he has a fat arse and my magic is still stronger than his; he will need a Vala to reverse the spell, if one will agree to do it.

 

At the end of a happy evening, Maglor and I left with our sleepy ion waving goodbye to everyone. I carried Erestor to the carriage, which was loaded with presents and climbed inside. Once inside he seemed to wake a bit.

 

"You know what," he said to me. "Glorfindel isn't bad for a bimbo, is he? I think I really like him."

 

I suppose it had to happen one day.


	46. The Retelling of the War of the Ring.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron gives Erestor his own forge and tells him about the one ring.

Erestor continued to grow happily with Maglor and myself and it was a time of relative innocence until the memories from his past life began to overwhelm and upset him. The old Erestor would have been proud to have done such things, but the reborn one, without the taint of Melkor, could not comprehend what he had done in the past and it distressed him greatly. Maglor sent him to me whenever a memory surfaced, as he knew not what to do with our distraught ion, and I did my best to help him. I was rather fond of Erestor and could not imagine life without his presence, although I knew it would happen one day. After twenty years I looked upon him as my own child, which to all intents and purposes he was.

 

To take Erestor's mind off the events playing in his mind I sought to provide enough distractions to wear him out so that he could sleep at night. My ion has expressed an interest in becoming a full time blacksmith when he is of age and so I am going to give him his own forge. He visits Fëanor every afternoon and has learnt much about working metal and gemstones in the past ten or so years.

 

Last Yule I was presented with a particularly fine dagger which Erestor had made under the guidance of his grand-ada. It was wrought with carvings of stylised animals and plants, and inset were tiny gemstones which exuded a light captured inside during the crystal formation process of which Fëanor is a master. His Grand-ada is so adept that Manwë has warned him not to attempt to make any stones of a silmaril nature. According to Erestor, Fëanor replied that no such thing was in his mind. However, Fëanor is of a wily temperament and neither hand knows what the other is doing, so I would have suspected him of the same. From the snippets that Erestor tells me, it seems as though Fëanor seeks to make stones that exceed the silmarils in nature or beauty. I have no doubt that he is capable and has the very best of intentions, but no elf can withstand the temptation of such alluring purity and beauty. He failed before and so it will be a second time. Valar help us all if he loses one of his stones under the floorboards and makes his ionen swear an oath to recover it. His ionen, apart from Maglor, are stupid enough to do such a thing.

 

"Come Erestor; I have a surprise for you," I said to my little one who was crying because of a flashback of the event in his former life where he killed Melpomaen a day after his fiftieth begetting day.

 

"Did I really kill an elfling?" He asked, his eyes watering and the snot streaming out of his nose. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and then licked it. My ion is such an orc in some of his habits. I did not correct his behaviour though; if Erestor wants to eat his own body waste then that is up to him.

 

"Yes you did," I replied and took his hand. "But as I have said many times to you, it was not your fault. Your mind was infected by Melkor and you thought that doing wrong was the right thing to do. Melkor did the same thing to me as well." I had more choice in the matter but the principle was the same.

 

"Melkor sounds really horrible," Erestor said. "Why don't we go round his house and kick his head in?"

 

"We don't need to," I replied. "Lord Manwë has sent him through the Door of Night into The Void. He can never escape and it is truly a terrible place."

 

"Have you ever been there?"

 

"Yes I went there once. Never again though, the food was truly awful and monsters with tentacles kept trying to kiss me." I grinned as I said it and Erestor smiled back. "There are no sweet shops there."

 

"I don't think I will visit then," Erestor assured me.

 

"You can only go there if you are a seriously bad and naughty elf. Your grand-ada Fëanor should have gone there for all the trouble he caused in Middle-earth but even he was not considered bad enough."

 

"Sometimes I see other elflings and when they are naughty their parents say they will end up in The Void if they carry on being like it," Erestor said and grinned at me. "They are not telling the truth are they?"

 

"Not at all," I replied. "Like most elven parents they are talking out of their arses. You are so lucky to have a Maia and an elf, who isn't a halfwit, as your parents."

 

"How is that?" Erestor asked.

 

"Do we ever tell you off for being naughty?" Erestor shook his head. "Do we ever send you to bed early as a punishment?" My ion nodded again. "What do I do if you are naughty?"

 

"You ignore me," Erestor replied. "Or you give me something to do."

 

I am of the opinion that telling an elfling off for being naughty is counter-productive. They are naughty because they seek attention and if their behaviour is ignored then they will have to find alternate means of communication. Erestor is hardly ever naughty now because I apply that principle consistently and I also have a more relaxed view on what constitutes bad behaviour. On the other hand, he has never done anything really bad yet, but give him time, I am sure my little trainee Dark Lord will in the end do some truly awful things. I look forward to it.

 

We turned around a corner of the house into a small garden and there stood the new forge. "Here you are," I said to him. "I had it built for you."

 

Erestor's eyes lit up. "It is great!" He walked inside and pulled open drawers containing precious metals and gems. "Look," he said excitedly as he dug his little paws into a mass of gemstones. "It is fantastic. I can make lots of swords and daggers and jewellery."

 

"We need to go to town and get some more stock and then we can get it working," I told him.

 

"Ada, shall I ask Grand-ada to come and work the forge with me as I am not really big enough to do it by myself." Erestor was so excited that he was jumping for joy but at this consideration he began to look rather worried and calmed down somewhat.

 

"There is no need," I told my little one. "I was taught how to work metal and gemstones by Aulë himself."

 

"I bet you were not as good as Grand-ada is," Erestor said as he picked up a gold block.

 

"Have it your own way," I said. "You obviously haven't heard about the, 'One Ring'."

 

"What? You only made one ring?" Erestor looked surprised. "I have made more than that."

 

"Of course I have made more than one ring," I said to my twit elfling. "It was a supreme ring of power. It bound all the other rings of power that I made to its evil. On the outside I inscribed the words: 'One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them'."

 

 

"You managed to get all that writing on one ring?" Erestor asked. "I think you are pulling my leg."

 

 

"Ask Elrond next time you see him," I said. "He will tell you about the War of the Ring, which was a silly escapade as all I wanted was my ring back."

 

 

"Did you win the war?" Erestor asked.

 

 

"No, I was killed," I replied. "Some stupid hobbit called Frodo and his secret lover Gollum threw it in the fires of Mount Doom; all my power drained away and I died."

 

 

"Why was Frodo's lover secret?" Erestor asked, obviously fascinated.

 

 

"Because he was also shagging a hobbit called Sam. I personally think that Sam was the better proposition as Gollum never cleaned his teeth and had bits of rotted raw fish in-between them." I smiled at my attentive ion who pulled a disgusted face. "During a lover's tiff, Gollum bit Frodo's finger off and stole my ring, then he said it was his so Frodo pushed him into the lava below. Unfortunately, Gollum still had hold of the ring and it melted."

 

 

"I heard that a hobbit called Bilbo came to Valinor with Elrond and that Frodo did too. I was also told that Sam and a dwarf called Gimli came to Valinor as well." Erestor's eyes shone brightly. "Well why don't we go round Frodo's house and give him a good kicking for stealing your ring?" That is what I really like about my ion; he is always ready to suggest violence.

 

 

"He didn't steal it," I told my little ion, although the idea of giving Frodo a good kicking rather appealed to me. "Isildur stole it from me during the Battle of the Last Alliance. It is rather shocking that a prince would be a thief, but there you are. He only lasted a couple of years before he was killed crossing a river. The ring ended up in the river too; it floated out into a large lake and sat at the bottom for a long time. I did not know this at the time, or else I would have tried to retrieve it. Gollum was known as Sméagol back then, but he was still an ugly git, as all hobbits are. Anyway he went on a fishing trip with his lover Déagol and they were having a happy time, probably stuffing their faces with endless amounts of food, they are an incredibly greedy lot, and Déagol found my ring. Déagol immediately gave the ring to Sméagol as it was his birthday and was incredibly surprised when Sméagol killed him."

 

Why did he kill him?" Erestor asked, spellbound.

 

"Because the ring told him to," I replied. "It was an evil ring of power, not a good one."

 

"Why did you make an evil ring?"

 

"Because I was an evil Dark Lord," I replied.

 

Erestor's eyes lit up, "Can I make an evil ring of power for when I am a dark Lord?"

 

"Lord Manwë has banned evil rings of power," I said and sighed.

 

"He is no fun is he?" Erestor said with a look of disgust on his small face. Then he brightened. "Elrond has a ring of power called Vilya. Was that an evil ring also?"

 

"Well look upon it this way," I replied. "When I tried to find out where Elrond lived in Middle-earth, so I could go round for a cup of tea and some cake, the ring stopped me."

 

"Well that doesn't sound right," Erestor said. "Did he know his ring was bad?"

 

"No, he thought his ring was good and I bet he still thinks it today." I replied. Erestor and I exchanged knowing glances as if we knew the truth and Elrond did not.

 

"So what happened then?"

 

"The ring turned Sméagol mad, and he was madder still when Bilbo tricked him into giving it to him. Bilbo took the ring home and gave it to Frodo who decided to return it to me. Anyway, Gandalf told him that I did not want the ring anymore, as a joke, and he should throw it away. The only fire that could consume the ring was those of Mount Doom and so that was where Frodo went because he did not understand that Gandalf was playing with him."

 

"Who is Gandalf?" Erestor asked.

 

"He was a wizard who used to live in Middle-earth. The elves thought of him as wise because he had a long beard and a pointy hat. I told you that most elves are halfwits. Happily you are not one." I grinned at Erestor who was still rapt with attention and swinging his legs under the chair he sat upon. "Gandalf was killed by a balrog in the Mines of Moria who apparently was irritated by the wizards ridiculous fashion sense."

 

"This is what happens when people take a joke too far, isn't it?" Erestor said and I nodded in agreement.

 

Maglor walked in, sat down beside me and hooked his arm through mine. "Do you like your present, Erestor?"

 

"I love it!" Erestor screeched. "Thank you, Ada. You are the best ada in everywhere." He ran up to me and put his arms round my neck and kissed my cheek and I ruffled his long black hair. "I am going to have lots of fun making things." He turned to Maglor and hugged him too. "I was going to make an evil ring of power so I could be like Ada, but Manwë doesn't allow them to be made anymore. Will you ask him if he could make an exception for me? Please."

 

Maglor laughed. "I doubt if Lord Manwë would make an exception for anyone," he replied. "You know what he is like."

 

I knew what Manwë was like; he had expressed an interest in the Erestor's forge and warned me almost daily that I should not attempt to make another ring of power. As if I would with the head Vala looking over my shoulder all the time; he must think I am as stupid as him.

 

"Your ada Maglor is also skilled at working metal and gems," I said to Erestor who looked at me in utter joy.

 

"We can make things together," he replied merrily. "We can all work the forge together as a family and make lots of beautiful things." Erestor was so excited he started to jump up and down in his joy; his little fists were clenched and he laughed with happiness.

 

Who would have ever thought that any elfling would ever voluntarily seek my company?


	47. The Change of all That Went before.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manwe decides that Erestor is not allowed to visit Feanor anymore and takes away his memories of visiting the town.

Over the years, Erestor and I spent many happy hours in the forge. At first Manwë kept a close eye on us and expressed his doubts, but after I pointed out that Erestor needed an occupation and seemed to be a quick learner he was more accepting. Fëanor was impressed at Erestor's dedication and gave him increasingly complex projects to complete.

 

By the time Erestor was forty he was taking on commissions for very finely wrought jewellery and highly decorated swords; it was then that Manwë dropped his bombshell and our lives changed.

 

"No one in the town will remember Annárë, and they will never know that he existed," he told us. "They will remember Erestor for who he was and for that reason he cannot go back to the town." I tried to protest. "Eru has already sung the future and it is necessary for Glorfindel that Erestor go back as himself, so that he can be cured as well."

 

"What was the point of socialising Erestor if everyone is to forget him?" I asked and put my arm around my ion who looked stunned. "Why can't we just bring Glorfindel here anyway?

 

"We are doing this for Glorfindel, not Erestor, and no he cannot back here as he is able to resist you," Manwë barked. "The only way it could happen is if he volunteered or was unaware, anyway, why should we consider Erestor's happiness when he was so evil in Middle-earth?"

 

"Because he carried your brother's taint?" I spat accusingly.

 

"He still had freewill," Manwë shot back.

 

"He is now reborn and has expressed none of the behaviour he did in his former life," I said angrily. "Do you know how many nightmares and flashbacks he gets and how much grief they cause him?"

 

"At last he is paying for his iniquities," Manwë smirked. "Do you think that anyone in Valinor cares about Erestor or that they would wish his suffering to cease? No, his memory is hated and he is still reviled." He said all this in front of my ion.

 

Erestor sat with tears dripping down his cheeks. "But I am not like that anymore," was all he could say.

 

"We know," I said as I sought to comfort him.

 

"He doesn't know," Erestor said and pointed at Manwë.

 

Manwë sighed. "Please understand Erestor, I cannot just wipe everyone's memory of the old Erestor or tell them that Annárë was really you all the time."

 

"What about when I go to see Grand-ada?" Erestor asked. "I really like Grand-ada Fëanor." He was inconsolable and there was little I could do but to protest and hope to persuade Manwë on his behalf.

 

"You are the most heartless bastard ever," Maglor shouted at Manwë. "What do you get out of hurting Erestor? Is it sexual?"

 

Manwë looked outraged and went to raise his hand but stopped when he saw his wife materialise in front of him. "Welding Maglor's mouth shut will only make Sauron and Erestor hate you more," she said to him.

 

"He cannot talk to me like that," Manwë said with a sulky expression.

 

The Lady Varda sat beside Manwë and told him that he could have picked a more gentle way of telling us and that he should leave alone the prejudices of the past. "I am sorry," she said to us. "Eru has decreed that Manwë's deception, even though it was done with the best of intentions, must be stricken from collective memory so that the elves do not lose their trust in us. Erestor was friends with Fëanor before and he will find it easy to be friends with him again."

 

"My Lady, Erestor could still go into town and the collective memory could be changed so that they remember he has always been Erestor and never Annárë," I said and pulled my ion a little closer.

 

"Unfortunately there are those who have vowed to kill Erestor when he is free from your care," Varda told me. "The old hurts have never healed, and unless you can change the thoughts of them all, Erestor will not be able to go into town unless he has a powerful protector like Glorfindel. It is also necessary for Glorfindel that he believes Erestor has not been reborn; he will reject him if he even suspects that is the case; to him such a young elf is unacceptable and he craves the evil that his old lover once possessed."

 

"Well I hate Glorfindel now, and I hate all the elves who want to kill me, and I hate you, Manwë, and I hate the Valar and I hate Eru," Erestor yelled. "You all seem to think it is all right to hurt me and I am not that person anymore."

 

Manwë looked outraged but all I could think of was my ion cuddling into me and sobbing hysterically. He had lost so much because of Melkor and even though he was the diametric opposite of his old self he would be made to pay for a past that was not completely his.

 

The Lady Varda stood in front of Erestor and took his face in her hands. "I give you this gift, Erestor; you will only have the flashbacks and nightmares of each event once, and then no more. You will continue to remember them, but the guilt will not eat away at your fëa as it has been doing for the past twenty years; they are a message and not a punishment. I also promise that the old friendships you had when Annárë will be easily remade when they see you as Erestor."

 

"But they won't remember me," Erestor said and I could see his point.

 

"Then I give you this," the Lady Varda said and placed her hand on Erestor's cheek. "They will not remember you and you will not remember them."

 

It was over. Erestor had no memories of visiting elves in the town and seemed more content. Maglor and I wondered what it had all been for and there was a profound sense of loss. Manwë made it clear that he was not happy with the way Maglor had spoken to him to which the Lady Varda replied that she would expect nothing less of a parent who loved his ion and believed that his life was going to be irreversibly changed for the worse.

 

"Did you think it would be simple?" the Lady Varda asked Manwë as he took her arm. "Sauron and Maglor love Erestor and want the best for him. The love of a parent enables them to take risks unheard of to protect their child."

 

"I never thought that Sauron could ever love anyone other than Maglor," Manwë said to her. "And he only loved him because we put it in his head to do so."

 

"You are wrong, my only one," the Lady Varda said and smiled. "Sauron has always loved Maglor, even though he did not know it himself; after all he was the only prisoner in Barad-hûr who had a mattress on his bed."

 

"As if that is a display of love," Manwë laughed and touched his wife's lips with his finger.

 

The Lady Varda pulled Manwë to her and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "For a Dark Lord the consideration of another's comfort, rather than discomfort, is exceptional."

 

We watched as they dematerialised.

 

"Are you all right now?" I asked and wiped a tear from Erestor's cheek.

 

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked.

 

"You were a bit upset before."

 

"Was I?" Erestor asked. "I don't remember." Lady Varda's enchantment had worked and Erestor knew nothing of his friendships in the town.

 

I went to the forge later that night and looked for the circlet my ion had designed for Celebrían as a surprise birthday present; she always encouraged Erestor with her praise for the fine things he made. It was not there. In fact, nothing to do with the town existed anymore except for one thing. I looked at the hilt of the dagger I wore and it still bore Erestor's mark. It was the one Fëanor had helped him make for me. Without the dagger, it would have been easy to believe that the past was a dream, an elaborate deception, but I am Maia and do not fall for games like that.

 

"I still have my dagger," Maglor whispered to me after Erestor had gone to his room. "Without it I might think that the past never really happened."

 

"Well it did happen," I replied. "And we must never forget that."

 

I placed my hand at the back of Maglor's neck, pulled him in for a kiss and then held him close. "I love you," I said and stroked his shoulder blades.

 

"I am worried that one day the Valar might decide that I am to forget you and I would know nothing about it," Maglor said to be, his voice nearly breaking. "I could not bear that."

 

"It will not happen," I replied. "I am a Maia and they cannot alter my memory. I would find you and we would fall in love again. Not even the Valar can break apart the bond of two fëa."

 

Maglor sighed with relief and held me a little tighter. "Let's make Erestor's last ten years with us the best ones he will ever have."

 

"Yes, we will," I agreed. "After all, when Erestor goes to live with the blond bimbo again life will definitely change for him. For a start he will not have as much fun as he had when here."

 

How delicious it will be, the day when Glorfindel realises who his in-laws actually are. I am so looking forward to it.


	48. My Heart of Pain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor comes of age and goes back to Glorfindel.

Erestor, Maglor and I worked in the forge making swords, spears, daggers and jewellery for the next ten years. We also shoed horses and fixed the metal parts of carts and carriages. At no point did we go to the town as it was now forbidden by Manwë, and I dare not defy one who had proved to be such a psychotic bastard in the past. Instead, Maglor and I took Erestor hunting and I am pleased to report that he killed without giving his animal victims a second thought. Maglor was very keen to start Erestor's warrior training and because I am the best ada in Valinor I gave him some of my power. It was a smidgen but enough for him to become very proficient indeed. If he ever became involved in a brawl then he could practically half-kill his opponent, without seeming to lift a finger and not sustaining any harm at all.

 

In Erestor's forty-fifth year I was sitting on the seat in the forge watching him hammering the edge of a sword, when he asked me why he dreamed all the time of a blond warrior. "In my dream he is the most powerful warrior in Valinor," he said and took a hearty drink of his beer. "He kisses me and then my dick goes hard and I stick it up his arse."

 

I chuckled; Glorfindel will be lucky to get such a prize as Erestor. He is much larger now and has strong rippling muscles under his golden tanned skin. His golden brown eyes have a laugh all of their own and he is always ready with a smile.

 

One thing about Erestor is that he prefers not to be refined; even though he is well schooled in the ways of acting in polite society he finds directness far more appealing. Glorfindel will have to put up with it. As Maglor said, "Erestor is the ion of a Fëanorian, and a Fëanorian does not change for anybody."

 

"It is probably Glorfindel," I told Erestor. "He is your soul mate and so you will have dreams about him, but you are also dreaming about your past life with him."

 

"What? I have had him before?" Erestor seemed surprised.

 

"Loads of times," I replied and smiled. "You will also remember other things before you are fifty."

 

"Well I dreamed that I was really evil and that everyone feared and hated me, also I dreamt that my eyes were darker."

 

"Before you were born, Melkor raped your nana and his evil seed attacked your body in the womb. You turned out evil and in the end you killed yourself because you despaired of ever seeing Glorfindel again. The Valar kept you in this clinic because you were too dangerous to be allowed to walk free. As soon as you were reborn, Manwë gave you to Maglor and me to raise." I hoped that this was enough.

"So, won't the elves still hate me?" he asked as if unconcerned.

 

"There are elves who have vowed to kill you whenever you are set free because they still carry old grudges; who knows, you probably killed their families or something like that." I grinned and he smiled at me. "The memory of Erestor is still universally hated though and you will have to work hard to change their minds."

 

"Oh well! Can't be helped I suppose. Who gives a toss what they think. They can go stick their heads up their arses for all I care," he said and then held the blade up in front of him. "Look at the edge on that sword. Am I good or what?"

 

We had many conversations about how life was before being reborn and in the end it dawned on Erestor that he was akin to an innocent kitten going out into a society filled with the most ravenous weasels. He needed to feel like that for the deception of Glorfindel to work.

 

We rehearsed what Erestor should say about his time here, how he should act and reminded him constantly that this was probably the greatest deception that he would ever undertake and that his relationship with Glorfindel was at stake if he failed. Several times he asked why he should care but Maglor reminded him that he would care very much indeed if he lost his soul mate.

 

The day came for our ion to leave and my heart was heavy. No longer would we spend time in each other's company, although he would visit often under the guise of it being part of his treatment. He was as loathe to go as we were to let him, but he did as he was bid when I told him that if it all failed he could come back to us. Part of me hoped that it would indeed fail because over the years I had come to love Erestor dearly.

 

We left him at the beach, sitting on a rock. "Remember to greet Glorfindel as if you have missed him intensely all your life," I reminded my ion.

 

"Why can't I say, 'Hey! Glorfindel! What's up? What you been doing while I was away?'" Erestor said and grinned. He was deliberately playing with us.

 

Maglor hugged Erestor and kissed him goodbye. "Remember we are always here if you want to see us," He said. "I will miss you so keep in touch."

 

Erestor said he would and it was my turn to say goodbye. I held my ion for the last time in what might be many months. "I will miss you," I said to Erestor. "There are only two people I have ever loved and you are one of them."

 

"I love you too, Ada," Erestor beamed. "I will miss you both as much as you miss me. Glorfindel had better build me a forge or else he is for it."

 

"Make sure you come back to visit or else we will have to come and see you, and that would unsettle Glorfindel no end." I grinned and hugged my ion once more. "Your Ada and I will be behind this rock if it all goes wrong. If Glorfindel doesn't play it as we expect him to, then I will step in. We will have to shrink ourselves down but we will be able to see perfectly what happens."

 

I waved my hand and Maglor and I shrunk down to the size of ten year old elflings. Erestor knew that I was a Maia and was not surprised, he thought it normal. "Will I ever be able to tell him?" Erestor asked. "I don't want to keep the deception going for too long."

 

"In the end he will know, but not until he has come in for treatment, I expect. The whole point of this deception is that Glorfindel is cured in a way that is favourable to your relationship," I smiled. "When he comes in for treatment, I insist you come and stay with us too. We can sit in the forge together, picnic on the beach and ride the dolphins like we always did."

 

"All right," Erestor said. "I think I have got it. Now supposing I see you in town, what do I do?"

 

"You come up and say, 'Hello' and sit down for a chat," I replied. "You can say that we are now fast friends because of the amount of time you spent here. Glorfindel cannot argue with that."

 

"Well it would be the truth," Erestor said and grinned. In the distance we could see a figure running up the beach, his long blond bimbo hair flying in the breeze. "There he is," Erestor said and after kissing us both he sat on a rock and posed. We moved quickly around the other side of a facing rock and watched.

 

"Erestor." Glorfindel panted. "Meleth nín, I thought I would never see you again."

 

Erestor started, as if waking suddenly from a dream and flung himself into the bimbo's arms. "I did not know where you lived and I did not dare go into the town and ask. So I sat on this rock and hoped you would find me. I am so cold." What a fantastic actor my ion is. I am terribly proud of him.

 

They hugged and Glorfindel wept like the elleth he is; they kissed intensely and whispered endearments. Then Glorfindel put his bimbo cloak around my ion and they walked along the beach to the house the warrior had built for them both. As they walked away, Erestor looked behind at Maglor and me and blew us a kiss. When he smiled I held onto Maglor's hand. My heart felt pain, a new sensation, and I felt a profound sense of loss.

 

How it hurts to love.


	49. Musings on the Flight of Frodo.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron tells his version of Frodo's flight to Rivendell.

We made our way back to the pink house through the curtain of mountains. Our hearts were heavy and we knew not what to do. Erestor was with Glorfindel and now Maglor and I were alone.

 

"What do we do now?" Maglor asked me as we sat on the sofa together.

 

"We carry on with our life," I replied. "There is nothing else we can do."

 

"You haven't treated anyone in the clinic for a while," Maglor said. "Perhaps it is time to think of doing something else?"

 

"What do you suggest?"

 

"Why not work the forge properly? Make it a business?" Maglor proposed. "You are a master smith, trained by Aulë himself, why not?"

 

"We will have to fill our time up, I suppose," I took a sip of the black tea I was drinking. "I could always make a few rings of power."

 

Maglor laughed. "I expect we would be watched very closely if you did that."

 

"We are watched very closely all the time," I smiled.

 

The sunshine of the morning was replaced by an overcast gloom. The first drops of rain fell. I waved my hand and the french doors closed. Maglor loves it when I do things like that.

 

"Come, lay in my arms," I said and I reclined back on the sofa so Maglor could lay with me. My hand waved towards the fireplace and the wood set alight. Another wave of the hand and the candles were alight in the holders. It was clouding over and darkening rapidly. "Let us watch the storm," I said to my only one as the first bolt of lightning hit the metal balcony rail.

 

~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was a while before we saw Erestor and the bimbo again. We were in the town, having a drink at one of the taverns that ringed the quayside. All the drinking establishments had tables and chairs outside so that we could all look out to sea and watch the dolphins playing and the trading ships docking, departing or passing by. How boring it all was, and how I wished that one of the ships would sink so that I could gratuitously enjoy the panicked yells for help as the ship descended into the sea. Of course, I would have urged that help be given because I am expected to, but that would not change my wholehearted enjoyment of the situation.

 

I digress. Maglor and I were sitting at a table eating crabmeat sandwiches and discussing why some river fish taste of mud, when we saw a familiar dark haired elf walking hand in hand with his bimbo lover. Erestor looked happy enough; he was talking animatedly and I remember hoping that he kept his words of a simple nature to match the intellect of his idiot companion.

 

"Oh look!" Maglor said excitedly. "There's Erestor and Glorfindel." He waved and Erestor saw him and waved back. "I wish he could greet us properly."

 

"Well if we were able to do away with this pretence that he was not reborn, then he could," I replied. "One day, Glorfindel will find out anyway." Yes he would. I would make sure of it. Erestor was reborn but he was also my ion and I did not see why I should deny it.

 

Erestor and Bimbo sat at another table. Whilst waiting for their drinks Erestor came over to see us, much to the chagrin of Glorfindel. "Hello Ada," he said to me and then said the same to Maglor.

 

"How are you?" Maglor said, smiling with happiness.

 

"It is going all right," Erestor replied as he sat in the opposite chair. "Fin says that I have changed and I told him that I was bound to have done. He wants us to get married but I have refused."

 

"Why?" I asked.

 

"Well, he doesn't want you at his wedding. I reminded him that it was my wedding as well and he said he knew that, but he knew what was best for both of us because I have not been in my right mind and at your mercy." Erestor took a drink of my ale and continued. "I told him to stuff his wedding up his arse and now I won't talk about it. It's driving him crazy. However, I think that I should have my ada at my own wedding, not that I told him you were my ada. You have done nothing to deserve his crap."

 

Oh, but I have, Erestor. However, I am not telling you of my life on Middle-earth; I will let Glorfindel do it and you will think he is a liar. How delicious it will be.

 

I remember the report of how the Nazgul were washed away in the Bruinen after chasing Frodo. Glorfindel stood on one side of the river in all his bimbo glory and Elrond stood on the other. They laughed about how they defeated the Nazgul, and how they were washed down the river, but they were never meant to catch Frodo.

 

The Nazgul's remit was to chase Frodo and ensure he arrived in Imladris, after being injured, to make sure that Elrond healed him in time; couldn't have the little spud dying before he was able to bring the ring to me. Apparently, the half conscious Frodo waved his piddling sword at them and ordered them back to Mordor. I laughed hysterically when they told me that, honestly, I was helpless for several minutes. The Nazgul, always eager to join in and humour tiny beings, laughed uncontrollably and taunted him by offering to take him back to Mordor. They were going to do no such thing; my minions are unable to thwart Glorfindel or Elrond but I was not going to let the elves know that. Ninety per cent of one's power is deception. Of course, I could have walked with impunity within the realm of Imladris but I was damned if I could find out where it was. Whenever my minions reported to me they had been attacked by Imladrian elves they could never remember the exact location; I considered it a character failing and punished them for it.

 

Elrond removed the tiny poisoned splinter, as I knew he would, but enough of the poison remained to make Frodo permanently weaker and more amenable to suggestion from the ring. Of course, Gandalf acted like an absolute drama queen about the whole episode and used it to make himself look more knowledgeable than he really is. I was so happy when the balrog killed him in the Moria mines and even though I knew the Valar would re-embody him, it was most satisfying that he had a terrible death.

 

It was obvious that the Nazgul would be washed away; you can always rely on a river controlled by Elrond to act in a predictable manner. It was so typical of Gandalf to turn the waves into shining white riders on shining white horses; bloody show off.

 

I did not understand why Gandalf wanted to appear as an old human man when he went to Middle-earth. Saruman did it too. Once, when torturing Saruman, I asked him why it was that the Istari did this. I had to dig a pin under his thumbnail before he would answer. He said that old people command respect because they appear to be wise. I laughed and told him to tell me the real reason and eventually he admitted that it was a fetish. He confessed, after I put another pin under his other thumb nail, that he and Gandalf were lovers for a while using their old age forms. Apparently, Gandalf wanted a twenty-four hour commitment to the old age way of life and Saruman did not know if he could oblige so wholeheartedly. Eventually they split up and Saruman said that Gandalf broke his heart when he took up with Radaghast instead. Saruman remained in his old man guise because he hoped that one day Gandalf would come back to him.

 

It really does not bear thinking about; however, I will because I am always up for a gratuitous laugh at the expense of another. I can imagine it now, even though it is repulsive, 'Oh Gandalf, you look stunningly wrinkled and doddery today. That robe looks wonderful, such a good fit; I can just see the outline of your incontinence pants,' and Gandalf's answer, whilst posing in front of the mirror and smiling with satisfaction at the outline under his robe, 'You always pay me such wonderful compliments, darling. It takes hours of work to look this wizened and the pro-wrinkle cream seems to be working a treat'.

 

"Do you think that Gandalf was secretly seeing Radaghast behind your back before you both split?" I asked mischievously. Saruman deserved all he got.

 

"How could you be so cruel?" Saruman cried.

 

"Because I am an evil Dark Lord, that's why." I answered, somewhat surprised that he would ask such a stupid question.

 

The elves held a victory celebration of the defeat of the Nazgul at the Ford of Bruinen with Frodo given the place of honour. I found it most amusing; they were never in danger of the Nazgul anyway. I am the first to concede that most elves did not know this, but Elrond is a canny and wise elf, blessed with a Maia inheritance, and he knew. We were actually talking about this a few weeks ago, because he is a friend of mine now, and he told me that he did indeed suspect such a thing but said nothing because the elves and hobbits needed a feel good event in such dark times.

 

It is odd that I should like my old enemy and that he should like me, but there it is. He thinks that I was led astray by Melkor and that events overtook me so that once started I could not stop. I replied that it was all for Melkor, and when I went through the Door of Night I fully expected to join forces with him again. I described the many horrific deaths I suffered in The Void and Melkor's betrayal and Elrond observed that it was probably a learning experience.

 

We also discussed Elrond's rampant promiscuity after his heifer wife left. "Celebrían never loved you and in the end she rejected you, so I consider that you were looking for love but on your own terms. This is why you would never have a serious relationship; you were afraid of giving your heart and being hurt again." Elrond would always agree with whatever I said; it is easy to be friends with someone like that. Manwë told him that I had altered Celebrían's mind to make her love him and he was content with that, even though he expressed that he would have been even happier if she had loved him of her own accord. He considered they were now happy in their relationship and that you have to go with what you have got. Elrond is ever the pragmatist.

 

It is no secret that Elrond adored his wife when living in Middle-earth; however, she barely tolerated him and had a lover in Lothlórien whom she spent as much time with as she could. In a way, Elrond was grateful that his wife was attacked by my orcs because she could not rub his face in it anymore that she preferred her female lover to him and found him repulsive. He would never admit he felt that way though, but I can tell. When I explored Celebrían's memories I made her have an unquenchable and ardent love for her husband, not because I felt altruistic towards Elrond, but because I knew it would please Manwë and he was there at the time. I still think she is a stupid heifer though, but I tolerate her because I am polite. Every time we meet I imagine the orc raping her and my smile is because of that, not because I am pleased to see her.

 

Glorfindel came over to our table; I saw him approaching and warned Erestor not to say anything familial. "Our food has been delivered to our table," he said to Erestor. I noticed that he avoided eye contact with me, but gave a tight smile to Maglor.

 

Erestor smiled and stood up. "So you want to see me in a month's time," he said as if we had already arranged a meeting.

 

"Yes," I replied, because I am very quick on the uptake. "Yes, then we can discuss how you are settling into normal life." I looked at the bimbo. "Would you like to input how well Erestor has fitted in to normal life? You are welcome to accompany him."

 

"We have no problems," Glorfindel lied, after all, every couple has problems. "Erestor has fitted in fine and he does not need to see you again." He took Erestor's hand. "Come along, Meleth."

 

"Manwë says that Erestor does still need my input; therefore, whether he is with or without you, I will see him in a month's time," I told the bimbo, my stunningly beautiful eyes flashing dangerously.

 

The bimbo shrugged. "So be it," he said as if he did not care and they walked away. As they did, I waved my hand and Glorfindel tripped over, falling heavily on his knees and elbows. Erestor looked back at me and grinned before helping his tart up to a standing position. "There was no need to laugh," Glorfindel whined. I noted with some satisfaction that his knees were bleeding and his elbows grazed and horribly bruised.

 

"You know me," Erestor said brightly. "I always laugh at other's misfortune." In his former life he did and I was so proud of him that he was able to carry out the deception of Glorfindel that well, but one day we both knew it would have to end. Glorfindel himself would let us know when he was ready and he would be totally unaware that he was doing so.

 

"It was good to see our ion again," Maglor said to me with a smile on his lovely lips. "Glorfindel seems a bit controlling though, doesn't he?"

 

"Yes," I said and squeezed my only one's hand. "It will not last forever though; one day I will be probing his mind and then he will become our ion's perfect mate, like you are mine."

 

Maglor gave me a brilliant smile and leaned over to kiss me. I saw Glorfindel out of the corner of my eye look with disgust at the both of us. I vow that one day he will pay for that look. I will not forget.


	50. On the Nature of Sulking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erestor visits his adas and reveals there are problems in his and Glorfindel's relationship.

Erestor came to see Maglor and I a month after we met on the quayside. I could hear Glorfindel in the waiting room, whining about having to accompany him. More than once Erestor told the bimbo to go back home or keep his mouth shut. Now if he would just give him a ringing smack on the mouth we would all be happy, especially if I could see it, I find gratuitous violence so fulfilling.

 

I walked into the room and smiled at Erestor who smiled at me. Glorfindel sat sulking and started to bite one of his fingernails; I remember hoping it was the hand he wiped his arse with; he does not look the sort to wash them after. "How are you?" I asked Erestor effusively, to annoy Glorfindel even more.

 

"Fine," he said and stood up.

 

"This way," I said and Erestor grinned. He turned to the bimbo. "Don't be naughty while I am away."

 

"I do not think any of this is very funny," the congenital idiot answered. "I don't even see why you have to come here." Well of course he wouldn't, being the bimbo he is.

 

"Because Erestor still needs to, that is why," I informed my ion's twat lover and smirked because there was nothing he could do about it. "If you continue to try and make Erestor feel bad about coming back here for more treatment then it may be less harmful for him if he was to stay here for an extended period of time and you stay at home."

 

"WHAT?" Glorfindel thundered.

 

"I will not have a patient of mine being made to suffer because he follows my instructions." I looked at Glorfindel with the utmost firmness. "If you cannot support Erestor in his recovery then I will have to think further about the desirability of letting him return with you."

 

Erestor looked upset but was reassured by the wink I gave him.

 

"I suppose I have no choice then, do I?" Glorfindel folded his arms and slumped down in his chair. He dare not come up against me because he knew my power from old. "How long is he going to be?"

 

"For as long as we need," I replied. "You do Erestor no favours by pressurising him."

 

We went into my office and I locked the door. "Come and see Ada Maglor," I said and opened the other door.

 

"I know you have told me this before but why can't we tell 'Fin about me being reborn?" Erestor asked. "I am really unhappy about lying to him." Erestor's insistence upon honesty is a character failing and I have not brought him up to like that; I have always encouraged him to lie as much as he can. However, he is my ion and I forgive him; no elf can be as perfect as me and it is not his fault that he was born one.

 

"Manwë says that Glorfindel will not accept you if he knows that you contain none of your old evil. He craves your brutal old self, even though he denies it to himself. He finds evil immensely attractive."

 

"Well he is bloody sick then, isn't he?" Erestor said as we walked through the house. "Sometimes, 'Fin tries to goad me into reacting violently when I am annoyed with him. He seems to do things so that I will get angry with him."

 

"Yes, he has always been sick," I commiserated, whilst secretly laughing my Dark Lord socks off.

 

We reached the living room and Maglor took hold of Erestor and gave him a hug. "I have really missed you," he said with the utmost affection. "Is Glorfindel treating you all right?"

 

"Most of the time we get along fine," Erestor said. "Sometimes he tries to get me to lose my temper with him though. He sulks when I won't do it."

 

"Nothing worse than a sulker," I said. "However, I told you he would do it."

 

"Last time I threatened to leave him and come back here, so he has been a bit careful since then." Erestor grinned and took the glass of wine Maglor offered him. "I would if the sex was not as good as it is, and we do genuinely love one another. In spite of what I have just told you we have many happy times."

 

"Maybe you should give him a damned good thrashing and tell him that you are a Noldor and we will not stand for sulking," Maglor suggested. "You could actually combine it with the sex so that the lesson is reinforced."

 

"It wouldn't work and Manwë would lose his temper and blame me," I reminded my joyously mad husband. "Regardless of what we think about Glorfindel he is Erestor's soul mate and he desires that which is unhealthy from the elven viewpoint. This is decided by the all knowing Valar; I am sure the elves themselves have a very different perspective."

 

Maglor nodded in agreement.

 

The servants arrived with lunch. We sat down and had crab salad and fresh baked bread, and Gooseberry fool and chocolate curls for dessert.

 

"You seemed happy when we saw you at the quayside," Maglor said. "Are you happy?"

 

"Well, I love Glorfindel and one day we will bind, but not until he gets his head sorted out," Erestor replied. "Most of the time we are happy but occasionally he goes on about my past and says he misses the old Erestor. I tell him that there is nothing I can do about that and he tries to push me to show that it isn't true."

 

"Push you?" Mad Maglor said fingering his dagger.

 

"He says things to try and make me angry," Erestor explained.

 

"Oh!" my crazy husband answered. "I thought you meant literally."

 

"He wouldn't dare," Erestor grinned. "When we spar I beat him every time." I was pleased that Erestor could give his husband a damn good thrashing if he needed to, and I reflected that giving my ion a small piece of my power had proved a fortuitous move indeed. Let us all hope that one day my ion will hit the bimbo a tiny bit too hard and kill him. I could easily cure him of any guilt he might suffer.

 

"See if you can manipulate Glorfindel so that he comes here begging for treatment or does something that can get him arrested or kept under guard, so that I be called in to treat him," I said. "I want to put a stop to this and even though I do not like Glorfindel I love you, and I do not want to think of you putting up with this shit." Actually, I hoped that Glorfindel drove my ion to such a rage that he died as a consequence. I would be so proud of Erestor if he did that. What revenge seeker would dare come up against my ion when I am his protector?

 

"All right," Erestor said. "You won't hurt him, will you?" How my ion knows me!

 

"No, of course not. He is the one you love and your happiness means everything to me." I smiled and Erestor smiled too; we both knew I was lying.

 

"You really have nothing to worry about," Maglor said to our ion. "Your ada is a perfectly decent Maia and would never hurt Glorfindel."

 

Wouldn't I? I would gladly torture and kill the bastard if I could get away with it. I am a bit surprised that Maglor thinks I am decent, I thought he knew me better than that.

 

"How about I visit at least once a month?" Erestor asked. "It isn't too often to arouse 'Fin's suspicion and it is often enough to reinforce the idea that I am working towards leaving my old self behind and all that implies. I have really missed both of you."

 

"Good idea; that is what we will do," I replied. "What else have you been up to?"

 

"I made friends with Fëanor almost instantly, we both know a lot about working metal. He has stones that capture Anor's rays and they shine in the dark." Erestor's eyes lit up. "He asked me to guess how he did it and unbelievably I was able to tell him. He told me that I had been spying on him so I drew my dagger and threatened to slit his throat and he laughed. Now we have done that, we are good friends. Legolas threatened to slit Fëanor's throat the other day because he called him a bimbo. But, you know what? I think that Legolas probably is one." Erestor rolled with laughter. "He wanders around growling at elves who even mention the word."

 

"Will I be treating him one day?" I asked, a big grin on my face.

 

"He is mad enough. He is always threatening to slit elves throats," Erestor said. "I also kept up contact with Elrond who told Glorfindel that the change in me is remarkable, but then again, he knows me from when I lived here." Elrond had been privy to the Valar's plans and he been one of our few regular visitors.

 

"What is it like where you live?" Maglor asked.

 

"We live in a large house that Glorfindel built with a lot of help from his friends and it is huge. He calls it, 'The House of the Golden Flower'. It has about twenty bedrooms and other rooms fit for a lord's house I suppose. He said it is because he wants to hold lots of parties. I told him that your house is bigger and he sulked. I am not going to watch what I say all the time, and I told him."

 

"Quite right," I said. "I hope you have servants?"

 

Erestor nodded. "We even have a small army of warriors who were loyal in Gondolin. They live in cottages with their families on the far side of the estate. They call me Lord Erestor. The servants here have never called me that."

 

"Well, you were born a lord in both your lives," Maglor mused. "But that doesn't mean you will be called one."

 

"You should get them to call you Dark Lord Erestor," I joked and Erestor grinned. "I wonder how Glorfindel is doing. It has been a couple of hours."

 

"He is probably still sulking," Maglor joked. "I wonder how you stand it," he said to Erestor. "Glorfindel the sulky hero! They will be making grim faced dolls of him next."

 

"He is not that bad," Erestor said. "He is very loving and adores me; however, occasionally he will sulk and it is probably because he is adjusting to the new me."

 

"I should imagine it is," I told my ion. "However, you need to lay strict ground rules. Sulking is to be discouraged; however, you could make it a reason for him coming into see me." I smiled and so did Erestor. Maglor shook his head and grinned before taking a sip of his wine.

 

We went back to the waiting room and Glorfindel was half way through a slim volume about famous Maia. Of course, I was in it; I was in the baddies section. I expect he read that chapter first.

 

"Come back in a month's time," I said. "No doubt Glorfindel you will want to go and have something to eat?" I could not resist the taunt; it was obvious that Erestor had eaten and he smelled of wine.

 

"I don't have to listen to this," Glorfindel said sulkily and he stood up. "Come on, Erestor." He put his hand through Erestor's arm and I noticed that he was rather gentle as he did so. He did not pull or try to drag my ion and I was heartened. Most elves who sulk are not so considerate.

 

Erestor said goodbye, because he is more polite than the bimbo, and they left for their carriage. I heard Glorfindel asking Erestor if he was all right and he said that he was worried about him all the time he was with me. Erestor replied that I had never hurt him and the bimbo muttered that there was always a first time. He pulled Erestor closer, kissed his cheek and was rewarded with one back. In a way it was good to see Glorfindel be so concerned about my ion and for Erestor to respond so happily. It was also sad that we had to maintain the deception. I will cherish the day when Glorfindel finds out who I really am in relation to Erestor.

 

I am glad that my ion is with someone who so obviously loves him, but why did it have to be Glorfindel!


	51. The Perils of Impulsive Boredom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron finds it does not pay to be bored when there are unseen Valar around.

I am horribly bored. There is only so much one can do to fill the day. I am not much of a socialite as I hate mingling with elves unless they are Maglor. I suppose I am quite friendly with Elrond, but I do not desire to see him more than once a month. Occasionally, I am required to go to one of Maglor's family celebrations. They hate me but have learned not to make it plain to my face lest unfortunate accidents happen to them. I normally see Erestor when I attend, so it is not all bad. Glorfindel hates the celebrations as much as I do, but then again he would; his delicate senses are offended by the behaviour of the mass of Fëanorians that attend. Personally I quite relish the raucousness of the partygoers; I am all for anything that offends Glorfindel. When he whined to Elrond about the bad behaviour of the Fëanorians, he was given short shrift; the peredhel delighted in telling me that, and since then the bimbo has been most careful in his witterings.

 

For several years we have seen Erestor once a month and Glorfindel has always accompanied him. Never has he accompanied Erestor into my office. We rely on him not to, and we go off and have several hours of amusement. It is a game now to see how long we can make him wait before he loses his temper or tries to find Erestor. Last week we made him wait seven hours and all he did was ask Erestor how it took so long before kissing his cheek. My ion held a bunch of fish he had caught during his day with Maglor and me and told the bimbo that he felt so much better. He gave a blinding smile and Glorfindel was spellbound. It doesn't take much to do that to a bimbo. Sometimes I really do wish Glorfindel would start yelling in anger and start demanding, but he doesn't. I do not know what Erestor sees in someone so placid; I consider it a character fault.

 

I have installed a sex room and Maglor has been instructed to whip me. It is the only way to drive the boredom from my mind and achieve a state of calm; I have too much of a trivial nature flowing through my mind and cannot seem to achieve the peace I crave. We tried it out this morning with disasterous results.

 

"Why do we have to do this?" Maglor asked.

 

"I am bored to the point of destruction, meleth," I said. "Remember how I tortured you when you were my slave whenever I was bored?"

 

Maglor looked upset. "You are not doing that to me again..."

 

"No, of course not," I reassured him. "You and Erestor are the only elves I would never consider hurting." Maglor breathed a sigh of relief. "We are soul mates, hurting you would be the same as hurting myself." I gave him a kiss and held him to me so he would know I meant what I said.

 

"Then why do you want me to whip you?" Maglor asked.

 

"Because I am unable to clear my mind from trivia and pain is excellent for doing that; it gives one another focus."

 

"You are not going to hurt me afterwards?" Maglor seemed very nervous.

 

I was amazed, although on reflection I could see why he asked me. "I never, ever thought to do anything to you in return. I am trying to save us from my destructive boredom and not bring down the wrath of the Valar on my head because I have been impulsive in looking for excitement."

 

"All right then," Maglor said softly.

 

We went to the sex room and Maglor tied my wrists to metal circles on a T shaped stand. "This is just like when Melkor used to whip me," I sighed happily. "However, he is in the void with the harpy Nienna and I am free. See, meleth, my thoughts are already changing."

 

I heard Maglor select one of the many whips. "What if this doesn't work?"

 

"It has always worked in the past," I replied. "Do your worst!" I wiggled by bare arse to make him laugh.

 

He hit me very gently across my bare back. "I have seen you thrash orcs, meleth. You can do better than that."

 

"I hated orcs," Maglor said in his defence.

 

"Okay, let us role play," I suggested. Let us suppose that you are in Barad-hûr and through some fluke you have managed to overpower me and tie me up and you are going to give me the whipping of my life. What about that then?"

 

"I have forgiven you for the past," Maglor said. How infuriating my elf is!

 

"Ha! You are so proud of being a Fëanorian, but you are a complete elleth when it comes to whipping a Dark Lord, aren't you?" I knew that would get him going.

 

"I know what you are trying to do and it won't work," Maglor said, his voice acquiring a slight edge. "I do not desire to hurt you and I think this might alter our relationship even though you do not mean it to."

 

"He is right you know," Manwë said from behind me, making Maglor and me jump. I suppose I should have expected the voyeur to be there in the room with us. "You are bored eh? Maglor is right in fearing that it might change the nature of your relationship, although if anything I would say it would make you love him even more. We all know what an incorrigible pervert you are, Sauron."

 

I did not feel comfortable having the mad bastard Manwë behind me, especially with a wall full of whips and other toys hanging around. "Untie me, Maglor."

 

Maglor moved forward and untied my wrists; however, they would not move and I realised I was frozen in position. "My Lord," I said. "Release me."

 

Manwë laughed. I heard Maglor protest when Manwë took the whip from him. "Away with you," he said and I heard my husband gasp as he was forcefully ejected and the door slammed shut.

 

I was alone in the room with a mad Vala. How could I have been so stupid? Maglor pounded on the door and tried to turn the handle but it was no use. I heard a heavy thud against the door, and then another, Maglor was using an axe to chop the door down to get to me. He would make sure I was safe from the mad Manwë.

 

"It is you and I now, Sauron." I could hear the smirk in Manwë's voice. "Do not worry; Maglor will not disturb us, no matter how he tries."

 

I felt the repulsive Vala caress my side and his fingers brushed the cleft in between my cheeks. "I have long desired to master your body. My brother should not have all the choice Maia," he breathed in my ear. I was so heartily relieved that when I changed Manwë's memories at Varda's bidding, giving him an intense love for her, that I also wiped the torture session from his mind; he might have wanted to re-enact that.

 

"Oh, shit!" I groaned as clenched every muscle I possessed so he could not seek entrance. My eyes closed; I knew what he intended and hoped that Varda would come to my aid. I felt totally alone and knew no such thing would happen. "But you love your wife," I said weakly. "Won't she have a view on this?"

 

"I adore my wife. I love her profoundly but she is otherwise engaged listening to Nienna's repentant pleas." Manwë's hand travelled around to my soft willy and he started to stroke it. "Whilst the cat is away the mice will play," Manwë said. "To quote a human expression."


	52. The Thunder of the Valar.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varda comes to sauron's aid.

"My Lord Manwë, did you say that the Lady Varda is listening to Nienna's pleas?" I asked hoping to stall the mad Vala as he kissed the back of my neck.

 

He ran his tongue across my shoulder blades. "Apparently, The Void does not have the same social ambience that Valinor has. I suppose there is only so much meaningful conversation one can have with the tentacle creatures." Manwë ran his disgusting tongue across my armpit. "Mmmm...For a Dark Lord you taste very nice indeed."

 

I was repulsed, and my face showed as much, but Manwë ignored it. I have never, in all my existence, licked an armpit, not even Melkor's. What a dirty little Vala Manwë is; he is as bad as an elf, except for my Maglor who would never do such a thing. I bet the bimbo would do it if Erestor let him. I have brought my ion up properly though, and so I doubt Glorfindel will ever be allowed.

 

The insistent tongue travelled down my spine and in the background Maglor still hammered at the door. "Persistent, isn't he?" Manwë mumbled.

 

"I would expect nothing less of him; now please let me go," I said and as the tongue reached my cleft I surprised myself and the Lord of Airs by doing the most incredibly smelly and loud fart. It was so bad it could have only come from The Void.

 

"You did that on purpose," Manwë roared, wiping his face with his sleeve.

 

"Exactly what do you think you are doing?" The Lady Varda said loudly to her husband. "Put your arms down Sauron and get dressed."

 

"My Lady, I am unable to. Your husband has me prisoner and you have saved me from him," I pleaded.

 

"What is that hammering?" The Lady Varda said and indicated in the direction of the door.

 

"Lord Manwë threw my husband out of the room and locked the door. He is trying to break the door down." Manwë kicked me slyly in the leg but I was unrepentant. "My Lady, if you had not turned up just now..."

 

"I have been watching for the past couple of minutes," Varda replied. "It was not obvious that your hands were bound with invisible ties though." She waved her hand and my wrists fell to my sides. "You were going to have sex with Sauron, weren't you?" she said to Manwë.

 

"I was merely going to teach him a lesson," Manwë said smoothly. "At no time did I actually consider having sex with him. Why would I when I have you, my sweet little cherry?"

 

Varda smacked her husband round the head so hard it is a wonder it did not tear away from his neck. "Liar," she screamed. Inside I was smirking but was controlled enough to make my face look as though I was horrified.

 

"I am not lying," Manwë the liar roared back and caught her hand as she tried to whack him again.

 

How I hate liars. Do those who lie not realise how much the truth hurts? Why spare the feelings of anyone when there is so much pleasure to be derived from telling the absolute truth? On the other hand, I encouraged Erestor to lie to me as much as possible so that he would not be a lamb to the slaughter among the devious elves. It is well known that no elf's right hand knows what his left hand is doing. My ion was naturally very truthful due to my influence, and like me he could see no point in lying. It took a lot of coaching for him to lie successfully and I rewarded him every time he caught me out.

 

"You are an out and out liar," Varda yelled. "You were going to have sex with Sauron and he did not even agree to it."

 

I looked down as if ashamed. I know how to elicit sympathy. Varda told me to look at her because I had no need to hide my face in shame, then she asked me what had happened; at the same time she made the door open so Maglor could come in. "My Lady," I said. "I devised this room because I have become destructively bored and thought that pain would be the answer, as it has been in the past. Maglor tied me to the metal rings and was about to whip me when your husband appeared. I asked Maglor to release the ties, which he did, but my wrists were still held in place at your husband's will. He threw Maglor forcefully out of the room and started to lick my body." I paused for dramatic effect and then continued. "He licked my armpits."

 

"The dirty bastard farted in my face," Manwë whined.

 

"I made him do it because you went too far," Varda told her husband. "Eru knows how far you would have gone if I had not been here."

 

I breathed a sigh of relief and Maglor informed Varda that he considered that I would have been raped.

 

"I think we all know that," Varda smiled pleasantly but her voice had an edge that I thought was unnecessary.

 

I put my arm around Maglor who looked a little bit upset and kissed his head.

 

"Thank you for trying to rescue me," I whispered. After a wave of my hand, my clothing formed on my body. I looked at Varda. "My Lady, may we go? Maglor is a little upset and I need to comfort him."

 

"Yes, yes," Varda replied impatiently. "I did not mean to upset you, Maglor," she added and then turned her attention to her errant husband.

 

We walked out of the room with some haste and went to the stables. "Let us both go into town and forget what happened," I said to Maglor. "As soon as they have finished, and vacated the sex room, I will get rid of it and it will exist no more. It was a mistake."

 

"What are you going to do to alleviate the boredom?" Maglor asked.

 

"I really have no idea," I replied, and I did not. It seems that I am not suited to a life of leisure and so hard work seemed to be the way to go.

 

Maglor's idea of working the forge and making it a business did not work. No elf will buy from a Dark Lord, no matter how fine the workmanship. It also did not help that Fëanor's grand ion Celebrimbor was so vocal in his condemnation of anyone who would buy from me. You would think that after all this time he would put aside the fact that I tortured and killed him. I remember him telling Erestor, within earshot of me, that he should not engage in conversation with one as despicable as me; so started one of the mass fights that the Fëanorian's are famous for. We were at the betrothal of one of the lesser relatives and apparently it was a damned good party. No Fëanorian celebration is considered successful unless they have a jolly good fight at one point during the evening.

 

Poor Maglor, sometimes he has to endure the taunts of relatives because he is married to me and he does not take criticism kindly. My mad Maglor is as crazy as the rest of them and is very quick to draw his sword. It is most strange but none dare confront me to my face. They are cowards, the lot of them, except for Maglor and Erestor, of course.

 

We rode down to the quayside and sat eating our lunch as we looked out over the harbour. The dressed crab salad was tasty and we tucked in. Neither of us could see if Erestor was around but we did hope to spot him.

 

The noise of distant thunder came from the other side of the mountains. "It seems that the Lady Varda and Manwë are still arguing," Maglor said softly to me. There was a flash of lightning and I looked up at the sky. The fork had not landed anywhere near us and was still in the distance.

 

As the air grew heavy and oppressive we finished off our salad and decided that we would not order dessert. Neither of us relished the thought of becoming wet in a sudden downpour. I called the tavern's stable lad over and gave him a gold piece to take our horses into shelter. Both horses were frightened of thunderstorms and so it seemed a sensible thing to do until the storm was over. The stable lad was extremely pleased when I made it clear that he should keep the whole gold piece; I know how to buy favour.

 

"Meleth," I said and kissed Maglor's hand. "Shall we go shopping? I have the utmost desire to buy you a present."


	53. A Compliment and an Insult.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrimbor insults Sauron.

Maglor and I were just about to rise from our table overlooking the quayside when Celebrimbor walked past. I still cannot believe what he did next, and it could only have been because he felt brave confronting me with so many elves around. He spat in my face and called me a foul fiend born of Melkor's arse. He is brave now it seems, but I remember a time when my mere presence would make him quake in his boots; they were happy days.

 

"You compliment me with your words and insult me with your body fluids," I replied. Maglor already had his nephew in an arm lock with his dagger at his throat. I looked around to see if Celebrimbor had any supporters with him; the elves at the nearest tables looked away.

 

"How dare you," Maglor hissed. "I should kill you right now."

 

"So sayeth the Dark Lord's whore. You do not have it in you," Celebrimbor taunted. His jeering did last for long though as my impulsive husband slit his throat. The panicked, gurgling sounds were music to my ears; however, the elves nearby were leaving their chairs and drawing their swords. I could have wiped the whole lot away with a sweep of my hand but chose not to. My rationale was that Maglor and I had long sought acceptability within elven society so that one day I could earn my freedom and now was a fortuitous time to reinforce that. Maglor is somewhat free and I am not, and never would be unless I put the situation right straight away.

 

My hand stroked over Celebrimbor's throat and the cut was healed. There was a collective sigh of relief as the mad elf stood up. "Do not think that I will thank you for saving my life, spawn of Melkor's bottom," he said.

 

"Why haven't you treated him in your clinic?" Maglor asked as he delivered a swift smack to the side of Celebrimbor's head.

 

"Good question," I replied. "I have no idea." I did not particularly relish discussing the matter with Manwë; in fact I did not want to be anywhere near him for at least the next millennium.

 

Celebrimbor lunged towards Maglor with his dagger. I saw it just in time and turned the blade into a flower. He looked stupid and we laughed at him. Maglor shook his head as if bored and pushed his mad nephew away from him. Surreptitiously, I waved my hand and Celebrimbor stumbled backwards and fell off the dock into the sea.

 

"I do hope he can swim," I smirked as I raced to the waterside to see if he would drown.

 

A couple of elves reached down and pulled Celebrimbor out; he stood before us soaking wet. "The House of Fëanor will rise up against you," he roared.

 

"No they won't, halfwit," Maglor smirked, which sent Celebrimbor into an absolute frenzy. He launched himself at Maglor with his other dagger which suddenly turned into a candy floss when I saw the flash of the blade.

 

Maglor took a piece and ate it. "How sweet of you," he said to his outraged relative. "I really like candy floss but it is very rare one sees it on sale. I wonder why that is. Do you have any idea why that might be?"

 

"Damn you," Celebrimbor shouted. One of the elves told him to calm down and was insulted for his efforts; the mad Fëanorian was making himself no friends.

 

"Let us go shopping," I said to Maglor as I was now weary of the situation.

 

"I will follow you round the town and proclaim to all how evil you are and what a whore your husband is," Celebrimbor shouted. The elves with him shook their heads in despair.

 

"What is going on?" a familiar voice said from behind me.

 

"Hello, Elrond," I said and grinned. "Have you seen how this idiot goes on?"

 

The peredhel sighed as if with annoyance. "He escaped from the healing rooms again. One day he could be badly hurt with the way he goes on." He stood beside Celebrimbor and tutted as he shook his head. "I have told you before; it is unreasonable to keep this grudge going. Your own family have asked that you receive help and you must be in a very bad way for them to ask that."

 

I knew what Elrond meant. Maglor and Celebrimbor's family were the happiest, craziest and most violent family in the whole of Aman. Nearly every weekend there was a family celebration where everyone would drink too much and then start fighting. Last week there was a celebration because little Merenion, who is only three years old, was given a baby rabbit as a pet. I always sat at the periphery and watched Maglor and Erestor in the thick of the fighting and enjoyed every bit of it. Glorfindel would sit over the other side of the room with a disapproving face; he never took part in the fighting because he thought it was beneath him. I do not doubt that the bimbo could have done some serious damage but that is not what the fight was about. No one was ever seriously hurt and afterwards there was much laughter. The bimbo did not understand it, but I did; they were releasing themselves from the stresses of everyday life and enjoying themselves immensely. Mentally, the Fëanorian's were probably the healthiest elves in Arda.

 

Elrond always attended the parties with Celebrían, and they would engage in the fight too. Once I heard Celebrían shout, "Elrond look out." He turned and she threw a pie in his face. He chased her around the room yelling half-hearted threats whilst she screeched with laughter, her long blonde hair flying behind her. None of the chronicles have ever recorded Elrond's capacity for fun; he was always recorded as a somewhat serious elf with the cares of Middle-earth upon his shoulders. I suspect that engaging in the pleasures of frivolity are not worthy of including in the recording of epic tales.

 

Often I would be covered from the contents of flying pies, but I did not mind; it was worth it to see Glorfindel's discomfort. He is so fastidious and always attends dressed impeccably. The Fëanorians, and also myself, always wore old clothing; we all knew exactly what would happen. I am quite certain that there is a running side competition to see who can ruin Glorfindel's clothing the quickest. One would think that he would learn, but I ask you, can a bimbo ever successfully retain information?

 

Elrond and his party secured Celebrimbor and marched him off to a waiting carriage. "It might be a good idea if you came to assess him," he said to me as Celebrimbor was taken away. "I fear his mind is very fragile and I have no idea why. He wasn't like that when he first came here; he has only been like it for the past fifty years. At first he wasn't that bad but now his family find him unmanageable." That explained why I had not treated Celebrimbor before; normally the Fëanorian's care for their own and seek no outside help.

 

"Of course," I smiled. "I will drop round tomorrow?"

 

"Excellent," Elrond replied. "Are you going to little Sigilon's first birthday party next weekend?"

 

I grinned and so did Elrond; he knew exactly what I was going to say. "I wouldn't miss Glorfindel being covered in pies for anything."


	54. The Catalyst.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel has pies thrown at him and loses his temper

Maglor and I went to little Sigilon's first birthday party. Erestor and Glorfindel arrived shortly. We sat at different tables, perpetuating the lie that our ion was not related to us. How I wished we could sit with Erestor so that I could taunt his miserable bimbo husband. Glorfindel did not look happy; however, his husband was smiling and greeting his friends. I saw him squeeze Celebrían's left tit and she squealed with laughter and called him a naughty boy before smacking him lightly on the head with her fan.

 

"Pie in the face for you tonight," I heard her say loudly to my grinning ion.

 

I smiled and looked at Maglor. "I am so glad that we brought him up properly," I said to Maglor who was laughing at Erestor's cheek.

 

"All right Sauron? Maglor?" Elrond said as he sat at our table. "Looks like a good one tonight. Look at that stack of pies over there. Did you forget the other day?"

 

I looked at Elrond blankly for a split second. I had agreed to see Celebrimbor and I did not go. "I must have done. It is unlike me to forget."

 

"It hardly matters," Elrond said. "It can wait. He seems to have calmed down a bit so he is staying with his relatives for the weekend. I can't wait to see how quickly Glorfindel gets covered."

 

There was a large table stacked with pies that would be thrown later, mostly at Glorfindel. Hardly any were filled with food. Pond slime was a favourite filling, but lately it was hard to find as the Fëanorians had collected most of it from the lakes round about.

 

The room went quiet as the trumpets sounded to herald the start of the party. About thirty small elflings ran in the room and Fëanor walked in through the door with Sigilon sitting on his shoulders. I remember exactly the same set up when Erestor was younger and known by everyone as Annárë. There would be a big party for the elflings, lasting about two hours, and then they would sit with their parents or be put to bed in the portable cots at the side of the room well out of the way of harm and flying pies.

 

Little Sigilon was giggling as Fëanor presented his grand iell to everyone on her first birthday. He made much fuss of her and told her how pretty she was in her new dress. Elflings with bright ginger hair need so much more reassurance than those who are not so blessed.

 

"Guess what I have for you?" he said to her as she laughed delightedly.

 

"I not know," she giggled.

 

A huge rocking horse was brought to the middle of the floor. I recognised Fëanor's handiwork, he had made one exactly the same for Erestor when he was small and for all his other grandchildren.

 

Sigilon's eyes nearly popped out her head. "Look horsey," she screeched and ran over to it. Fëanor lifted her on and held her as it rocked back and forth. She looked so happy; I looked at Erestor, a few tables away, and he had a smile on his face as if remembering happy times or just because he was feeling the happiness in the room. Glorfindel was smiling too, but any small thing pleases a bimbo.

 

"Come on young lady," Fëanor said and lift Sigilon of the rocking horse. "You have many more presents to open."

 

"No, I stay on horsey," she screamed and whacked Fëanor's head with her tiny hand. Such a temper, she would have done well as a warrior in Middle-earth.

 

"Sigilon," Fëanor said and took her hand. "Do you want all your other presents?"

 

"Yes, but I want horsey too," Sigilon answered and a small tear dripped down her cheek.

 

"There is a future drama queen," Maglor remarked.

 

"She already is one," I replied and squeezed my only one's hand. "What did we buy her?"

 

"A monkey puppet and a tiara, Maglor replied. "It has her name on it."

 

Amras and his wife, who both have ginger hair, walked into the centre of the room, cuddled their iell and gave her a set of baby weapons and a toy oliphaunt. Sigilon loved her presents. She drew the dagger and announced that she was going to kill the family cat. I see a promising future for that little lady.

 

All the relatives gave Sigilon a present and she was overwhelmed. When it was our turn, Maglor walked to his small niece, placed the tiara on her head and told her that she was now a princess. Then he showed her how to stuff her arm up the monkey puppet's bum and make the mouth work.

 

"Do not allow the whore of Sauron to touch that innocent child," a voice screamed out from one of the tables. They had let Celebrimbor attend and I was reminded with sharp clarity that I really should have gone to heal the idiot; curse my forgetful mind! Maglor dived into the mass of tables and grabbed hold of his nephew.

 

"I swear Celebrimbor, I will slit your throat," Maglor threatened.

 

"Now, now..." Fëanor said as he walked towards them both. "This is little Sigilon's party and, Celebrimbor, you should keep your mouth quiet if you have nothing nice to say. Sauron was forgiven by the Valar thousands of years ago and we are all friends now."

 

"You would say that," Celebrimbor snarled. "You were just as bad as him. You caused as much death and destruction as Sauron did."

 

I find that completely outrageous. I cause much more death and destruction than Fëanor, and how dare his mad relative imply otherwise. I stood up and the whole room went quiet. They still feared the reaction of the Maia who had been their persecutor in a far distant land. I walked over to the idiot elf.

 

"Celebrimbor," I said and waved my hand to paralyse his vocal cords. "We are at a little girl's birthday party and you are spoiling it for her. Until you can say something that does not involve insulting me or my husband, or our host, you will not be able to talk at all."

 

The fool tried to talk and could not. Maglor smirked and released his hand from the mad elf's hair. He walked up to me and took my arm.

 

"Too right," Fëanor said in agreement. "We are now in a time of peace and old grudges are forgotten. I say now that Sigilon will have a happy birthday and there will be much joyous celebration, or else!"

 

We sat down and Amras and his wife sent over a bottle of Fëanorian sparkling wine as a thank you. It would have been incredible bad form to start the fighting before the elflings' party had ended. Erestor walked forward and gave little Sigilon a toy treasure chest with little baubles that he had made for her. She ran her fingers delightedly through the mass of bangles, rings and hair braid clips, and gave my ion a big kiss.

 

Afterwards there were games, a magician and presents for all the elflings. Then they went to sit with their parents, and the really tiny ones, including Sigilon, were put in the cots at the side of the room so they could go to sleep. The dancing started after that. I never dance and Maglor never asks me. Glorfindel doesn't dance either; he is too afraid of ruining his clothes. The dance floor is where the first pie will be thrown and the bimbo has learnt from bitter experience that they are normally aimed at him.

 

One might wonder why the Fëanorians pick on Glorfindel. They view him as a prissy, self-important elf who needs taking down a peg or two. He does not join in and will only engage in conversation with a select few. Erestor talks to most of the elves as he is somewhat of a social creature. His previous evil life is forgotten by all except Glorfindel who from time to time tells him that he craves the old Erestor. It is slowly becoming a source of friction between them and the bimbo is demanding that Erestor do things to him that my ion now finds repugnant.

 

"Watch this," Elrond said to me. He had a pie in his hand and a mad grin on his face.

 

It was the first pie to be thrown. Elrond launched it into the air and it hit Glorfindel on the chest. His face was filled with thunder and he shouted at Erestor when he laughed. A hundred more pies hit the bimbo because he never learns. He stood up and roared that he had enough of being the victim of the Fëanorian pie throwing at every party and wanted it to stop. Another hundred pies flew his way and each one hit him. Erestor howled with laughter and so did we all.

 

"Glorfindel invites abuse, doesn't he?" Elrond sniggered and I agreed.

 

The bimbo walked forward and took the drunken Erestor's arm. "We are going home," he roared.

 

"Don't touch me you are covered in pies," Erestor laughed and looked with surprise when Glorfindel pulled him out of the room by his hair.

 

We could hear them arguing in the distance and Maglor stood up and went to follow them. I caught his arm, "Let them go. Erestor is more than able to look after himself and it may be the catalyst we need to get the bimbo into the clinic."

 

"I hope so," Maglor said. "I have just about had enough of the way he carries on."

 

"Me too," I agreed. "If only he would lighten up and throw a pie back."

 

"I don't understand it," Elrond said. "After Glorfindel rescued Frodo, Erestor tortured him and left him for dead. It took a lot of treatment to save his life and for several months he was in a very precarious state of health."

 

"But Glorfindel was present at the Ring Council where you all talked about how great I was," I said, somewhat confused.

 

"No, we lied in the chronicles." Elrond said. "Neither Erestor or Glorfindel were there. It was a saving face measure. I had to treat a whining hobbit, who wasn't that badly injured and was drama queening it like crazy, and a very seriously injured elf, whilst engineering the biggest cover up going. I honestly thought Glorfindel would die."

 

"He craves that again?" Maglor asked. He was astonished and so was I. What sort of elf craves abuse? Still, my admiration for the old Erestor increased in leaps and bounds. I hoped that when they arrived home he would give the bimbo a damned good thrashing.

 

"I took Glorfindel as my lover to show him that love could be gentle, and I like to think it was an eye opening experience for him." Elrond shook his head. No doubt he thought it all for nothing.

 

"It is because of you that he has been able to have a normal relationship with Erestor now," I told Elrond. "He seems to have forgotten how awful it was. I only wish that he did not have the capacity to resist my mind probing. He will need to be unconscious or not in his normal frame of mind for me to intervene. I do not like to think of what my ion has to put up with from the idiot."

 

"I have tried talking to Glorfindel about it," Elrond said. "He has been trying to goad Erestor into torturing him and they argue because he constantly refuses. I told him to accept how his husband is now and not try to turn him evil to satisfy his perverted pleasures but it seems to fall on deaf ears."

 

"He is a selfish bastard," I said. "A quality I normally admire, but not when it is directed at the ones I love."

 

"I have a feeling that it will all come to a head soon," Maglor said.

 

He was right.


	55. The Dark Morning of a Bright New Day. Final Chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Valar force Sauron to make a life changing choice.

After the party we went home. Using my powers, I was able to remove all the food debris from mine and Maglor's clothing, and as a favour I did the same for Elrond and his heifer too. The ride home was uneventful. After we arrived, Maglor and I had a bath and then we sat on the balcony looking out over the dark sea. I sipped my hot toddy and drew Maglor closer. I love these quiet times of peace. My only one felt warm against me and everything was right in my world. Being evil and indulging my black heart could wait; all I wanted to do was to feel the closeness of my husband and enjoy our shared warmth. In the distance the waves lazily rolled over the beach and the occasional cry of a seagull rent the stillness. The soft breeze carried the salt tang of the sea air with just a hint of the cooler weather to come.

We went to bed and during the night a thunderstorm erupted with a sudden violence. Maglor sat up in bed. "Erestor," he said.

Whenever an elf does something like that it is wise to listen and take notice. I felt it too and hoped our ion was all right. "Let's get up and go to him," I suggested.

A wave of my hand and we were dressed and covered with our waterproofs. With our weapons securely fixed to our bodies, we raced down to the door and out to the stables to retrieve our horses.

"What do we do? The horses are terrified," Maglor asked as he tried to move his reluctant nag.

I made both horses unable to hear the thunder and we mounted them. "We need to ride like the wind," I told my only one, even though he knew already.

Both of us felt the danger and hoped that we would be in time. We rode at a furious gallop through the mountain tunnel and along the beach following the curve around to the town. Erestor and Glorfindel's estate was just after the town, and we rode up to the double gates and tried to open them.

"Let me through," I said to the guard. He replied that he could not, so I commanded his mind to obey me. We walked through the gates and warriors came running at us from all directions. I waved my hand and they flattened on the ground as if ninepins. The front door was locked and so we stood back and I waved my hand again so that it splintered into many shards. We walked through. The inside of the great house was still. It was the first time I had ever been in there and Maglor asked if I knew where to go.

"We will search everywhere," I said. "Although it is most likely that they will be in the big bedroom at the front; the one with the balcony overlooking the sea."

We made our way up the stairs. The occasional guard was paralysed with a wave of my hand, other than that we were not disturbed. From the front bedroom there was a muffled sobbing. I opened the door and Glorfindel lay sprawled on the floor, presumably unconscious, and Erestor was trying to wake him. My ion jumped when I softly called his name.

"What happened?" I asked as Maglor pulled him to his chest.

"We argued about what happened at Sigilon's birthday party, and when we arrived home he started pushing me and yelling that he did not want to be married to me anymore as I was not up to his expectations. He was not like his normal self; he was like someone I have never met before. He shouted that if I did not know what to do to him he would have to show me and he attacked me. We ended up fighting and there he is on the floor because I punched him in the face." Erestor then bit his lip and drew a large breath. "I hope I haven't hurt him."

"If you have he will adore you forever," I said as I held a light up to my ion's face. My beautiful Erestor was bruised all over; on his neck were marks that indicated an attempt at strangulation and his bare chest and back had been subjected to some heavy blows and what looked like the red lines from being lashed by a whip. I wanted to kill the bimbo for this. "Do you still love him?" I asked.

"I should not, but I do," Erestor replied. "He does not love me anymore..." My ion broke down and sobbed loudly at that.

"He does love you," I told my ion. "I know that without doubt. He just seeks to make you someone you are not. This is the act of desperation because his need for your old self increases more with every day and now he finds it intolerable."

"Kill the bastard," Maglor said and pulled our ion into his arms. "You deserve better," he said softly to Erestor.

"Please do not kill him," Erestor said panicking.

Everything froze at that moment.

"Kill the bimbo," Manwë said and smiled. "If you kill him you will earn your freedom."

It was so tempting, but Manwë is a liar. I smiled and shook my head. I looked over at my ion and my husband, both were unmoving. I was out of time and could spend as long as I needed negotiating with the mad Vala.

Námo and the Lady Varda appeared beside Manwë. "If you kill Glorfindel you will gain your freedom," Varda assured me. "I have never lied to you, Sauron."

"Erestor will live back with you and Maglor, and will be none the wiser. He will not remember Glorfindel and we will find a new soul mate for him," Varda said.

"Why can't either of you kill Glorfindel?" I asked looking at all three of them.

"We could take his life at any time," Námo told me. "This is merely to determine your direction. There is no sanction attached and no right or wrong."

"Look at Erestor," Varda said. "Look at how hurt he is. He deserves better."

 

I looked at my ion and I saw that he was indeed injured, but he would heal. He loved Glorfindel and I could see the panic frozen on his face because he thought I might kill his soul mate. What the Valar suggested was so seductive. I had longed for my freedom since my arrival in Valinor and now it was within reach. Varda and Námo could be trusted even though Manwë could not. If I killed Glorfindel I would gain my freedom and my ion would be free of the bimbo forever.

I moved nearer Glorfindel and looked at the approving faces of the three Valar. Erestor would not remember and we could be a family once more; I knew that would make Maglor very happy and I would be pleased as well.

Yet, if it were I, would I not miss my soul mate, even though he was removed from my heart? I could not live without Maglor and a part of my being would always be empty constantly seeking solace for the loss of what I knew not. That is how it would be for Erestor, no matter how effectively Glorfindel was removed from his mind and fëa. My mind reasoned that he would never know what had been lost and when he met his new soul mate the emptiness would be replaced by a new love. How different I was now to when I was the Dark Lord of Middle-earth. I would never have considered Erestor's happiness then.

Erestor's look of panic, reached out to me and I moved over to hold him and Maglor in my arms. "Even though I cannot abide Glorfindel, I love my ion," I told the Valar. "He loves Glorfindel and even though he might not realise what he had lost, I would know that I had destroyed his love. You intend giving him a new soul mate; however, I would know in my heart that I had taken away from him the one he holds most dear and I cannot do that. I cannot live with a lie and so I will not kill Glorfindel."

"You will lose your freedom," Varda said to me.

"It is a heavy price to pay, but I would not have it any other way. I love my ion. What price is attached to happiness? I desire my freedom with all my heart and yet the heart of my ion must come first." I sighed because I truly knew the value of what I was refusing.

"He is not even your ion," Manwë said softly.

"In my heart he is my ion and will always be so," I said. "I do not think I could love him more even if he were of my flesh and blood. Therefore I refuse the offer of freedom because I love my ion."

"Who would have thought that Sauron would love someone enough to put them above his own freedom," Námo said. "This is truly remarkable."

"His black heart is no more," Varda said and walked over to me. She placed her hand over my chest and my heart beat off my ribcage. "I am giving you a second chance," she said. "I am giving back to you what you were before Melkor seduced you." My being felt lighter and I laughed. It did not matter that I was still a slave; my whole being was infused with joy, even more so that I could look at Glorfindel and still think of him as a bimbo.

Manwë squatted beside Glorfindel and touched his hand to the bimbo's forehead. He stood up and announced that Glorfindel was cured. "I am not letting you play with his mind," Manwë said to me. "You are as you were, before Melkor seduced you, therefore you are still susceptible but that is as far as we can go."

It matters not. I could live without the thrill of discovering the bimbo's boring hidden secrets and so I smiled my acceptance. Varda told me to kneel down beside Glorfindel as if I were the one who had healed him so that Erestor would not be any the wiser and I did so. The three Valar vanished and Maglor and Erestor unfroze.

"He is cured," I told them. "It was very fast."

Erestor leaned over to Glorfindel's body and shook him. "Wake up, meleth," he said, and shook his lover's shoulder before taking him in his arms.

"You look different," Maglor said to me. "You seem lighter some how."

It did not seem to matter that I had lost my freedom forever; I would live my life as before knowing I had done the right thing and that I still had my family around me. Before the bimbo could fully awaken I waved my hand and all the marks of injuries disappeared on Erestor and Glorfindel's bodies. They had a new start so it seemed appropriate.

"What was I doing on the floor?" Glorfindel asked.

"You were drunk," Erestor replied and grinned nervously, no doubt hoping that his husband would not see through the lie. "You have been out cold for some time."

The bimbo laughed and hugged my ion. "Well, I feel great now and for some reason very happy," he said. Well that makes two of us but I bet mine is of a better quality because I know the true value of it. Glorfindel looked astonished when he saw Maglor and me. "Erestor, melethen, why are your adas in our bedroom?"

Maglor's heart leapt in his chest. Manwë had taken my freedom but had given us the gift of Glorfindel knowing that we were Erestor's adas and accepting it. "They always come and see us," Erestor lied and I found that against all of my expectations I was proud to hear him do so.

"I must have knocked my head," Glorfindel grinned. "No more drinking too much for me."

We said goodbye and I even let the bimbo hug me. He was totally different and when Maglor suggested coming to our house for dinner the next day he was all for it. We left the house and with the ubiquitous wave of my hand I unpinned the warriors from the ground and repaired the gate. I remember hoping that the warriors had hurt themselves when they fell and my heart leapt with joy that I was still able to think such things.

We rode home and the first of Anor's rays were peeping over the horizon. "I think it is going to be a good day," I said to my only one and smiled.

After leaving the horses in the stable we went upstairs to our bedroom. "I am too tired to wash," I said. "Come to bed and in the morning..." Maglor smiled and held me close.

We snuggled under the covers and held each other during the night. I did not feel too different. I was lighter and filled with joy, so that would carry me through when the darkness of my slavery filled my thoughts. I could hope for nothing more and perhaps that was all I would ever get. I told Maglor all of what happened and he said how proud of me he was for doing the right thing and part of me flooded with relief that he thought so and still loved me. I might still be a slave, but I can live with myself and that was all that mattered.

The next day, Manwë came to visit and told me that I was not his slave anymore. He said that I would always have an eye kept on me because of my susceptibility to evil but I was now my own master. I asked him why the charade of the previous night occurred if I was always going to be free. He replied that even though I would have had my freedom if Glorfindel had died, I would have to live with the constant knowing of what I had done. I had the chance to do what was right and I fulfilled their expectations. They knew the decision I would make before I made it, but I had to do it for myself.

So much has changed but outwardly very little has. We still go to the same parties; Glorfindel still has pies aimed at him but he does a lot of the throwing now and is proving to be quite the social creature. I join in with the Fëanorians because they are fun, and I even let tiny elflings sit on my knees; sometimes several elflings at once want to sit with me and I have no idea why they find me so fascinating. Celebrimbor is cured, a small worm had crept into his brain through his ear and altered his behaviour, but he is back to normal now because Elrond removed it. No doubt he had been lying with his ear on the ground, a silly habit when there are such things as cushions. The clinic is gone and that area is now a formal garden. Nienna failed in her plea to be released from The Void; perhaps she did not realise that there is no place for a bitch of her magnitude in Valinor. Maglor and I still live in the pink house and I remain intolerant of anyone who steals the fruit or flowers from the displays. We see Erestor and Glorfindel several times a week and I am beginning to even like him a little but he will always be a bimbo in my mind.

Fëanor sidled up to me the other day and showed me his latest stone. It had the light of Anor within. "I have remade the Silmarils," he said. "But these ones are better."

I took the stone from him and felt the pull of desire; I quickly handed it back and advised him to destroy it. I have been through too much to lose all that I have worked for, and I will never go back there again. That part of my life is over and now I know freedom I would not lose it for anything.

"I think I will go and show Thranduil if you are not interested," Fëanor sulked. "He will appreciate them." Oh well I have upset Fëanor and yet I am not bothered.

Maglor and I watched his ada walk away and I held my husband close. He is my silmaril and he is the one I am fatally attracted to. There will never be any other than him nor will there be any temptation that is greater than our love. It has been a long journey but now I am free of the past that bound me.

I am Mairon, Tar-mairon, Gorthaur, The Abhorred Dread, The Dread Abomination, The Nameless Enemy, Sauron the Deceiver, Zigûr, The Wizard, Aulendil, Annatar Lord of Gifts, Sauron, The Dark Lord of Mordor, The Necromancer, The Lord of the Rings, Base Master of Treachery, the Dark Lord, the Dark Power, Lord of Barad-dûr, the Red Eye, the Ring-maker, and the Sorcerer. My forms have been a serpent, a wolf and a vampire. I am all of these and yet I am none of them anymore. I call myself Maia Sauron so I know from whence I came and that is good enough. Who knows; I may even write the truth of what happened in Middle-earth, one can never trust official chronicles.

The future is mine and Maglor's and I will take it. Anor will always shine on our lives and we will last forever. On that happy note I bid adieu and close this chapter of my life forever...

Or will I?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dark Judgement - Partying with the Fëanorians.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908) by [Glorfindel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glorfindel/pseuds/Glorfindel)




End file.
